Near Miss
by usa123
Summary: When a mission runs dangerously close to Wyatt's day of birth, will the team be able to get him back to the present in time to save his life?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Regarding the official rules of Time Travel, Kripke says "We have this main rule that we're really operating under which is that you can never travel back to a period that you've already been." I'm going to take that to mean there can't be two of a character breathing at the same point in time (it sticks a little bit with Anthony but if you assume the character is about a decade younger than the actor, he could have gone to 1969 without issues.)**

 **That being said, Wyatt needs to be the oldest time traveler for this plot line to work. Therefore, this story is AU for "Karma Chameleon" which puts him as younger than Rufus. If we push the "Karma Chameleon" episode back to 1982 and make Rufus' birthday a year later, it all works out.**

* * *

 _Mason Industries, March 24, 2017_

With a flurry of high-speed winds and teeth-grinding screeches, the Lifeboat blipped out of sight, sending Wyatt, Lucy and Rufus to Chicago, Illinois, April 28th, 1983. When Flynn had jumped earlier that day, the date hadn't been immediately apparent to anyone but, after some Googling, the team had determined that Harold Washington was about to be sworn in as the first African-American mayor of Chicago on the 29th. No one knew exactly how Rittenhouse was involved since Washington's name hadn't come up before, but, if Flynn was there, the Time Team needed to be too.

As soon as Jiya rearranged the small knick-knacks around her workspace, she turned back to her computer where a series of simulations for more accurately pinpointing the Mothership's location were running. As if on cue, her screen flashed red, signaling yet another sim had failed. She scowled at the machine—not that it changed the outcome at all—then pushed away from her desk and headed for the break room before the next simulation could fail as well.

She grabbed a soda from the fridge then, finding no one she'd want to talk to already sitting there, dropped into her own booth and pulled up her email. Most of it was listserv reply-alls from other divisions of the company but there was one in the middle of the bunch from HR. Jiya didn't usually read those as they tended not to apply to her but, based on the date, she knew it was probably the list of office birthdays for the upcoming month. Said email blast had begun last year after Mason employees complained about not feeling appreciated. Now, each employee received a special lunch on Connor Mason on their birthday and a monthly list was sent out publically in case coworkers wanted to make a bigger deal of the date.

It was a testament to how bored Jiya truly was that she actually opened the email. She spent a few minutes scrolling through the names before she was interrupted by notification that the sim suite was done running, with no better results than before. Groaning, she grabbed the soda can and headed back to her desk where she put her phone aside and began working on debugging the latest failure.

Exactly seven minutes later, she straightened up, her eyes wide in horror. She grabbed for her phone, unlocked it and reread HR's email. Her fears confirmed, she quickly punched in Agent Christopher's direct number.

Before the Homeland Security agent could even say hello, Jiya was already speaking: "Ma'am, you need to get down here. We have a problem."

* * *

 _Chicago, Illinois, April 30, 1983_

To the Time Team's great surprise, Washington's ceremony had gone off without a hitch, matching in every way the research Lucy had done before they'd travelled here. Yet, for some reason, Flynn hadn't left yet. In fact, though the team had seen a fleeting glimpse of his men wandering around the day before the ceremony, they hadn't actually seen Flynn himself. Concerned that he was off somewhere constructing an even greater plan, the team got to work paging through newspapers, watching televised news shows, and listening to radio reports of upcoming events in the area, trying to figure out his next move.

Wyatt, who had been tasked with reading the various physical newspapers, put down the leaflet and rubbed at his forehead in an attempt to abate the pressure that had been building behind his eyes for the last day. To his knowledge, he had been perfectly healthy before he'd left, which made the sudden onset headache even more surprising. In typical Wyatt Logan fashion though, he ignored it, chalking it up to the large amount of reading he'd been doing the last few days without much sleep, and picked up the paper again.

He'd barely made it through the first sentence when a blinding pain exploded in his stomach. It came on so suddenly he hardly had a chance to think before instinct took over and he tumbled to the ground, taking cover beneath the small desk in his hotel room. His brain was so overwhelmed that he couldn't even remember where his weapon was.

He didn't know how long he laid there before the pain abated and he slowly came back to himself. As soon as he could move, he reached down and probed his abdomen, feeling for a wound. When he felt no tender skin, he looked down and quickly discovered the white shirt he was wearing was completely unstained.

In the interest of being thorough, he ran his hands up his sides and back but still found no injuries.

 _The hell?_

As confusion settled in, he looked around the room and quickly realized the harsh knocking he'd been hearing was coming from the connecting door. He hauled himself shakily to his feet and made his way across the room, pulling open the door to find Lucy's concerned face staring back at him.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"Fell asleep at the table," he lied with practiced ease. "Slid out of my chair."

She fixed him with a piercing look and he forced his heart to slow down and his breathing to regulate. "You sure?" she finally asked.

"Absolutely."

It took Lucy a moment before she nodded slowly. "Well, Rufus wanted to get together to compare notes since none of us have found another key event. Maybe between the three of us, we'll find something we missed."

"Sounds good," Wyatt agreed. "I'll go get the paper."

He walked back to his room, gathered up the pages and was walking back to Lucy's room when his stomach twinged again. It wasn't nearly as ferocious as before but was still strong enough for his concern that this was a serious issue to ratchet up a notch.

* * *

After another two hours of going over current events and finding nothing, Wyatt began to get restless. As cliché as it sounded, he wasn't used to just sitting around and his body was practically begging him to do something active.

"I'm going to go for a walk. See if I can spot any of Flynn's men," he announced, hauling himself to his feet and grimacing as his back angrily protested.

Before Lucy could open her mouth, he waved away her concern. "I'm tired of sitting, that's all," he stated, replacing the grimace with a lopsided smile.

"I'm down for a walk," Rufus said as he pushed himself away from the desk.

"No!" Wyatt flinched as the word came out much more forcefully than he intended. He looked over at Lucy and Rufus to find them staring at him with a mixture of confusion and indignation. "You guys can't come with," he added in a much softer tone, hoping that would be the end of it.

But then Lucy straightened up, dug in her heels and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. "Why not?" she demanded. "We can cover more ground that way."

The reasons were too numerous for Wyatt to explain: there were too many variables with the three of them out there. One of them might be Flynn's target and could be more easily taken down in isolation. Sure he'd put Rufus and Lucy through a soldier's version of self-defense class but they were nowhere near the abilities of Flynn's men.

Mostly though, he couldn't protect both of them out there, especially if whatever happened earlier happened again.

"I need you both to trust me," he finally said. "It's better if you stay here."

There was a moment of silence before Rufus sat back in his chair. "You know, the whole splitting up thing has never worked well for us," he pointed out.

"I'll be fine Rufus," Wyatt replied, one corner of his mouth lifting in a crooked smirk.

"I sincerely hope you're right." With that, the pilot slipped on a pair of Walkman headphones and turned the radio they were plugged into back on.

Wyatt looked over at Lucy, who shrugged. "If you think it's best," she said in a tone that was just shy of being convincing before she dropped back into her chair and resumed paging through the newspapers.

Wyatt stood there for a moment longer, contemplating whether or not he should tell them the truth. In the end, he decided against it, knowing they had a job to do, and that was more important than anything going on with him.

"I'll be back soon," he promised before heading into his own room, grabbing his weapon, then leaving the hotel.

He walked up and down the streets of Downtown Chicago, searching for any sight of Flynn or his men, until his feet hurt from tight fit of his dress shoes. Much to his surprise though, he found himself aching in more places than just his feet. His chest burned with the effort of bringing in air even though he wasn't walking all that quickly, and his limbs felt stiff and oddly disjointed.

Needless to say, he was grateful to not have run into Flynn's men as he finished another lap of the area. He was just turning around to head back to their hotel when the agonizing pain returned, this time in his head.

For an unending length of time, he knew nothing about his surroundings—there was nothing but a pain so sharp he couldn't even think. When it finally started to ebb, he found himself sitting against a wall, knees pulled to his chest, hands clutching at his temples. His foggy brain realized something was standing in front of him and, when he squinted, a cop came into view.

"You can't be out here," the man boomed. "Private property. I need you to collect your stuff and leave."

Unable to find the breath for words, Wyatt just nodded and shakily pulled himself upright.

"You okay, sir?" the officer suddenly asked, suddenly sounding more warm and generous.

"Migraines," Wyatt ground out, hand rubbing at his forehead. "Bad."

"You need a lift?"

Wyatt considered the offer for a split second, not sure if the man could be trusted, but then nodded, knowing he didn't really have another option. "Yeah, that'd be great."

* * *

"Where have you been?" Lucy demanded as soon as she opened the door to her hotel room. "It's after seven!"

He'd been gone for almost four hours.

"Where's Rufus?" Wyatt asked, wincing as the ache in his head ratcheted up a notch.

"About to go out looking for you." Without taking her eyes off Wyatt, Lucy tapped on the connecting door. "He's back," she called loud enough to be heard in the other room.

Rufus burst through the door almost immediately. "We are never splitting up ag—What happened to you?" he demanded as soon as he saw Wyatt's disheveled appearance.

"I think I'm getting sick." Wyatt then proceeded to describe his symptoms to his teammates. "And that might not be a big deal but I wasn't sick before I got here and haven't been sick for the last few days and I really don't want to be a Typhoid Mary for some futuristic virus."

Lucy walked over and rested her hand against his forehead. "You're not running a fever but I don't know if that's a good thing or not."

"So what's the plan?" Wyatt asked, dropping into a chair and wincing as the motion jarred his knees. "Do I have to worry about this or—"

Without warning, pain lanced through his chest, stealing his breath. He doubled over, clutching at his ribs and forcing his lungs through steady inhales.

"Rufus, what's happening?" he heard someone…Lucy…ask as he struggled to bring air into his lungs.

"Either he was poisoned somehow or…" Rufus cursed. Loudly. And creatively. "Would you say the pain is sharp or dull?"

"Seri'sly?" Wyatt grunted out, his forehead pressed to the wooden table in front of him.

"It's important! Sharp or dull?"

"Sharp!"

"Started in your stomach, head, then chest." Rufus cursed under his breath. "This is bad."

Suddenly there were hands under his arms, hauling him to his feet. Disoriented, Wyatt looked around until his gaze landed on Rufus, who was fully supporting him, Lucy hovering off to his right.

"Waz goin' on?"

"We need to go _now_!"

"Why?" As the new pain began to die down, Wyatt hazily took stock of his body. Once again, there were no obvious wounds but this latest round of…whatever was happening to him…left him feeling lighter, like he was floating, as if all of his body weight wasn't being accounted for in gravity anymore.

"What's going on, Rufus?" Lucy asked as she grabbed their few belongings, shoved them into her purse, and followed Wyatt and Rufus into the hallway.

Within seconds of Lucy appearing, Rufus had adjusted his grip on Wyatt and began hobbling down the hallway. The soldier was desperately trying to straighten up and take some of his weight off Rufus' shoulders but was having little success as his body was slow to react to any of his instructions.

"Today's your birthday, isn't it?"

"What?" There was now a shrill ringing in Wyatt's ears and he was no longer sure he'd heard Rufus correctly.

"Answer the question," Rufus snapped, the raised voice easily able to be heard around the ringing. "Today is your _birthday_ birthday, like the day you were born?"

Wyatt had to think about it for a long moment, his brain much slower to make the connection than it should have been. "Yeah," he finally ground out. "So?"

Obviously Lucy was now on the same page as Rufus for she swore just as creatively as Rufus had earlier, all while furiously punching the down button for the elevator. "We have to go, now," she stated in the same tone Rufus had used.

"Why?" Wyatt finally managed to ask. He could barely feel his extremities anymore and had no idea if he was actually walking or if his feet were just dragging.

"At some point today, there will be two of you," Rufus huffed as he readjusted Wyatt's arm over his shoulder. "And that messes with the timeline."

"Oh." That sounded bad but Wyatt couldn't remember why.

"I assume it's only by sheer dumb luck that you haven't been born already..." The rest of Rufus' words were lost as the ache in Wyatt's head kicked in with full force, sending him doubling over and clutching at his skull.

There were hands around him, propelling him forward and he could only barely hear words floating by his ears. Then his cheek was burning hot, stinging. With the temporary flash of adrenaline, he was able to understand Rufus's query: "What time were you born?"

"Eight...thirty..." he slurred, just before the ringing in his ears morphed into a shrill screeching.

From then on, Wyatt was vaguely able to catch snippets of the pilot's and Lucy's conversation: something about 45 minutes…and a cab.

Then he was sitting, his back against a rough material. And for some reason, that set off a desire to cough. The harsh motion hurt his lungs and he felt something wet pass by his lips.

His abdomen was on fire, hot-white pain shooting from every nerve fiber.

There was a loud noise that hurt his ears but he couldn't make his arms move to cover them.

Then there was a sharp stabbing pain in his lungs and he knew no more, as his body gave up the battle to remain conscious.


	2. Chapter 2

**I hate to be the bearer of bad news but, if you haven't heard, NBC officially cancelled _Timeless_. Here's hoping it finds a home on another network!**

 **Thanks also for your wonderful reviews! I will respond to all of them in turn, but figured you'd rather have the next chapter first.**

* * *

If Lucy was being honest with herself, she'd known from the moment a panicked Wyatt had opened the connecting door in the hotel that something was wrong. But she'd trusted that he had it handled and had allowed the subject to drop.

Now, as she sat next to Wyatt in the backseat of a vehicle Rufus had hotwired, watching him cough up blood, she wished she'd have made a bigger deal about it earlier.

And that was before the screaming started. It was a horrible, gut-wrenching sound that pierced directly to her core; she would have done _anything_ to get it to stop.

The screams had startled Rufus so much they'd almost gotten into an accident. After swerving back into their lane, he'd thrown on his turn signal and prepared to pull over.

"We don't have time," Lucy shouted while she tried to keep Wyatt from thrashing against his seat belt.

Rufus swore again but flicked off the turn signal and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

Lucy was painfully aware of every tick of the analog clock embedded on the dashboard and just how little time they had to get out of the city, to the Lifeboat and back to their present. To make matters worse, she just then realized she had no idea how long the actual trip in the Lifeboat took. As they hadn't been back to a place where she could wear a wristwatch, the trip itself could take hours, though it only felt like seconds to them.

Wyatt's next spasm almost resulted in him smashing his head against the window, so Lucy pulled his head against her shoulder, splayed her hand over his cheek to keep him pressed against her, and prayed that this would stop the moment they left 1983.

She must have said that last part out loud, for Rufus made a grunt of acknowledgement then pressed harder on the accelerator.

At 8:12, they arrived at the Lifeboat. Lucy immediately began leveraging Wyatt out of the car while Rufus disabled the reflector shields on the time machine and punched in the code to open the door.

By 8:17, they were working on getting Wyatt into the Lifeboat and by 8:23, he was buckled in but jerking against the harness as pain rolled through his body. Blood was now dripping from his ears and mouth and both Lucy and Rufus were wearing a fair amount of it.

"Get us out of here," Lucy shouted to Rufus as she fumbled with her own harness.

Just when she thought nothing could be worse than Wyatt's screams, the soldier let out a groan then went eerily silent.

This time, Rufus didn't turn around, knowing there was nothing he could do but continue the launch sequence. As the Lifeboat began to rumble, Lucy tried to grab for Wyatt's hand to feel for a pulse but couldn't maintain her grip in the angry jarring.

Then, just like that, they were back in Mason Industries.

Rufus quickly unbuckled and spun around in his chair to see Wyatt pitched forward against the harness, his head lolling against his chest, completely silent.

"Is he—" the pilot asked Lucy who was already on her knees beside the soldier, feeling for a pulse at his throat.

A few seconds later, she nodded, her jaw clenched too tightly together for her to talk. She pulled her shaking hand away from Wyatt's throat then pushed him gently back against the seat so she could undo his harness.

Suddenly, the Lifeboat's doors slid open and Dr. Candice Bright climbed in, followed by two uniformed paramedics. They practically shoved Lucy and Rufus aside as they crouched in front of their patient and began examining him.

"It was his birthday," Lucy finally managed, from her new position flat against the side of the Lifeboat.

"We know," Dr. Bright replied without looking away from her patient. "Jiya told us."

While one of the paramedics shone a light in Wyatt's eyes, Candice palpated his upper body, looking for major injuries. She froze when she got to his tense and rigid abdomen. "Prep an OR; we need to get him into surgery," she shouted and, outside the Lifeboat, someone responded affirmatively.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the second paramedic said to Lucy and Rufus. "We need room to work."

Seeing the logic in that argument, Lucy and Rufus climbed out of the Lifeboat and up to the mezzanine where Agent Christopher and Jiya were standing, watching the scene unfold in front of them.

"How is he?" Denise asked, her eyes never leaving the Lifeboat.

Rufus shook his head. "Not good."

Jiya swallowed hard and Rufus reached out an arm and pulled her close.

Lucy could only watch the medical team work for another few minutes before she knew she needed to ask the question that had bothering her for the last hour. She'd taken Rufus' statement that no one could go back to a time they'd already been to on faith, not wanting to worry herself with additional horrific scenarios as she traveled back in time. It was suddenly very important for her to know just what had happened to the one who had attempted it but, try as she might, she couldn't remember what exactly Rufus had said.

She took a deep breath, physically steeled herself for the answer then asked, "What is wrong with Wyatt exactly?"

"Internal bleeding," Rufus said softly. "At least, that was Jimmy's official cause of death."

"Jimmy was…" Lucy trailed off out of deference, hoping Rufus would catch her meaning.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the pilot nod, then begin to run his fingers through Jiya's hair, almost as a distraction. "As he tried to get back to the present, he recorded his symptoms. Said it felt like his body was literally trying to rip itself in half." Rufus swallowed hard before he could continue. "Those tapes are required listening for all potential pilots. Mason's way of trying to weed out the weak ones, I guess."

After a brief pause, Rufus lifted his head and made eye contact with Lucy. "Those recordings saved Wyatt's life. They're the only reason I knew what was wrong with him."

He looked like he wanted to say something else yet but there was a great commotion on the ground level and the four looked down to see the paramedics lift a stretcher out of the Lifeboat.

They barely caught a glimpse of Wyatt's bloody face before the paramedics had secured him to a gurney and taken off for the elevator.

* * *

"How is he?" Lucy asked, hours later, as soon as Dr. Bright stepped out of the OR. Her scrubs were now blue instead of gray and Lucy really didn't want to know what had happened that had required her to change.

"You might want to take a seat for this," the physician said, motioning toward the chairs lining the hallway.

"Is he alive?"

"Lucy—"

The historian planted herself as firmly as she could into the tile. "Is. He. Alive."

"Yes, but the situation is complicated." Dr. Bright rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand then walked over to the chairs and sat down herself. "Now please," she said, gesturing to the seats around her.

"Wyatt came in with massive internal bleeding, lacerated organs, shredded kidney, broken bones—injuries we typically only see in severe car accidents," Dr. Bright began as soon as Rufus and Lucy were seated. Her words sent icy knives through Lucy's stomach but she forced herself to detach from the situation, as she had many times with her mother, in order to get through the conversation without freaking out.

"Dr. Travis was able to locate and fix all the bleeds during surgery. Wyatt is still on a ventilator to help with his breathing but I'm comfortable calling his condition stable but critical." She took a second to look at both Rufus and Lucy in turn before finishing, "Once he's out of recovery, he'll be moved to the ICU, so we can keep an eye on his progress. The greatest measuring stick we have is whether or not he makes it through the night."

Lucy absorbed this news with a blank expression while Rufus was a little less stoic with his emotions and wore his shock for everyone to see.

"You both know Wyatt pretty well," Dr. Bright continued in a gentle tone. "Is there anyone I should call?"

As if a switch had been flipped, Lucy's gaze hardened and she glared at Dr. Bright. "You don't need to _call_ anyone. Wyatt _is going_ to make it."

Dr. Bright nodded patiently, her own expression somber. "I sympathize with you, Lucy, but Wyatt's condition is extremely critical. There's a very real possibility he might die in the next twenty-four hours. I need to know who his emergency contact is."

"His grandfather. Jesse Sherwin," Rufus spoke up. "In Van Horn, Texas. His parents aren't around anymore."

Lucy looked at Rufus over her shoulder, wondering where he had gleaned that information. The pilot shrugged halfheartedly. "I may have checked you both out before we went on our first mission."

Deciding to let that go for now, Lucy turned back to face Dr. Bright. "Definitely his grandfather. If you have to."

"I do. Thank you both for your help."

She stood up to go but Lucy reached out and grabbed her arm. "When can we see him?"

"He's on his way to recovery for the next few hours. We usually don't let family back there but in this case I think we can make an exception."

"Thank you," Lucy said thickly as she rose to her feet. To her surprise, Rufus however remained seated. "Are you coming?" she asked after a moment, her tone soft but curt.

The pilot shook his head. "I need a minute."

"Okay," Lucy reached down so her fingertips brushed Rufus' arm before following Dr. Bright down the hallway.

As soon as they were gone, Rufus sprang to his feet and headed to fourth floor. He brushed by Molly the receptionist then burst into Connor Mason's office.

"You need to get Jesse Sherwin here now," he announced. Mason, who looked to be in the middle of a teleconference, glanced over at Molly, who was standing at the doorway mouth open in protest, and waved her away.

"I'll just be a minute," he said to the webcam before closing his laptop and turning back to Rufus. "You were saying?"

"You need to call someone in Van Horn, Texas and do whatever you have to do to get Jesse Sherwin on the next flight out here."

"Who is Jesse Sherwin?"

Rufus squinted in confusion at his boss. "Wyatt's grandfather. Haven't you heard anything about the last eight hours?"

Mason shook his head. "I've been in meetings all day trying to keep my business afloat."

"Wyatt's…" Rufus choked on the following word and had to swallow hard before he could continue. "Wyatt's hurt bad. You need to get his grandfather here. Just in case."

Mason was already moving, picking up his phone again and dialing an unknown number. "Consider it handled."

Rufus blinked, completely surprised by Mason's magnanimity. In all honesty, he'd been expecting more of a fight.

Mason looked up to see Rufus still standing there. "Just because I am a member of Rittenhouse doesn't mean my conscience is gone," he stated. Before Rufus could respond, someone on the other line must have picked up for Mason spun around in his chair and began issuing instructions at top speed.

A hand grabbed his arm and Rufus whirled around, simultaneously twisting out of his assailant's grip. It was only seconds later that he realized that it was Molly, trying to escort him from the room.

"Sorry," he said, standing there for a second too long before walking out of his own volition.

* * *

While Rufus was gone, Dr. Bright had escorted Lucy to the recovery wing, where a wide bank of windows allowed staff to see into individual rooms. Lucy had prepared herself for the fact that Wyatt wasn't going to be in great shape, but she still had to stifle her gasp of surprise when she saw the extent of the damage. Almost every inch of skin she could see was either vividly bruised or bandaged; that which wasn't was a ghastly white, almost the color of the sheets he was lying on. He was connected to all sorts of equipment, including the aforementioned ventilator, which was basically breathing for him. Lucy hated that she knew exactly what each machine Wyatt was attached to did to keep her friend alive.

Suddenly, she wasn't in recovery but in a different hospital room, watching her mother, with a scarf wrapped around her hair to hide her baldness, hack into a tissue.

She must have staggered back for Dr. Bright's hand was on her shoulder, steadying her. "I know it looks bad but all things considered he's in pretty good shape."

Unable to form words, Lucy just nodded. Dr. Bright continued standing by the doorway, obviously waiting for Lucy to go enter, but the historian couldn't make herself step forward. "I think I'll wait for Rufus," she said, turning on her heel and walking back toward the front area.

She had made it exactly two steps before she remembered what it was like to have doctors call her house in the middle of the night, waking her from a dead sleep when her mom had taken a turn for the worse.

"Wait," she said as she turned around and quickly covered the distance back to Dr. Bright, purposefully not looking into the wide recovery window. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to call Mr. Sherwin. You can tell me all the sciency stuff but it would be good for him to hear it from someone who isn't a doctor."

Candice looked at her for a long moment then nodded. "Sure. Let's go to my office."

* * *

The phone call went about as well as Lucy had expected. After demanding to speak with Dr. Bright and the surgeon, Dr. Travis, about Wyatt's condition, Jesse Sherwin promised to take the first flight to Palo Alto. Just before Lucy was about to end the call, Molly walked in, took the phone from Lucy and informed Mr. Sherwin that a private plane was waiting for him at Culberson County Airfield and would leave as soon as he cleared security with Mr. Mason's expedited pass.

With that out of the way, all there was left to do was wait.

Lucy hated waiting.

Nevertheless, she sat on the other side of the bed from Rufus, put her hand on Wyatt's, and rubbed circles around his IV while informing him that he'd better be alright or she was going to kick his ass.

Agent Christopher, who had taken Jiya to deal with some Lifeboat business earlier, reappeared just long enough to grab Wyatt's file, page through it, and ask Lucy and Rufus if they'd both been checked out, before her phone rang and she walked into the hallway to answer it.

In between meetings, Connor Mason stopped in to see how his employee was doing and to give Lucy his direct number should something go wrong.

Dr. Bright and Dr. Travis dropped by every half an hour to check in on Wyatt, having been paid handsomely for this to be their only case, and sent a status report to both Mason and the plane that carried Jesse Sherwin.

All the updates seemed to show Wyatt was improving: his O2 stats were increasing, his pulse and heartbeat more regular and no new bleeds had appeared.

That all changed two hours later when Wyatt stopped breathing.


	3. Chapter 3

**I was the bearer of bad news, but now I get to be the bearer of a most excellent reversal! If you haven't heard already, _Timeless_ is un-cancelled! We will get 10 episodes sometime in 2018!**

 **Now, back to the story...**

* * *

Seconds later, Wyatt's heart stopped beating, as evidenced by the red horizontal line flying across the EKG monitor. The machine began screeching, followed quickly by the rest of the equipment, their alarms desperate to be heard above the rest.

Within seconds, Dr. Bright and Dr. Travis were flying into the room, pushing Lucy and Rufus out of the way so they could access their patient. The healthy members of the Time Team didn't leave the room but hovered in the corner where they'd be out of the way.

"He's coding!" Candice stated after manually checking Wyatt's pulse.

"Start chest compressions," Dr. Travis hollered at Nurse Rickards but the petite woman was already in position, interlacing her fingers and pushing on Wyatt's chest in a quick rhythm.

"We need more help in here," Dr. Bright shouted into the hallway as she located a vial of epinephrine and injected 1 mg into Wyatt's IV. Two more nurses appeared in the doorway, ready to jump in wherever they could.

As the compressions continued, Dr. Bright and Travis began discussing what had caused Wyatt's heart to stop, while doing a quick examination for any physical causes.

"What do we do?" Rufus asked, surprising Lucy, who had forgotten he was there.

"Hope they can get his heart started," the historian said softly, her eyes never leaving the commotion surrounding her friend.

She felt Rufus slid his hand into hers as Nurse Ferrara took over the chest compressions. She couldn't help but count the repetitive motions, silently correlating them to the number of seconds that had passed since Wyatt had taken a breath. For the second time in twelve hours, she was reduced to being a bystander while Wyatt's life hung in the balance.

Dr. Bright, Dr. Travis, and a balding man who Lucy didn't recognize finally came to an agreement and injected something else into Wyatt's IV.

After a long moment, a small peak appeared on the EKG monitor. Nurse Rickards immediately grabbed Wyatt's wrist and almost immediately nodded. "He's has a pulse."

Nurse Fererra ceased doing chest compressions and the whole room let out their collective breath as Wyatt's chest rose and fell on its own.

"Thank god," Lucy whispered, letting her head fall back against the wall.

Something shifted in her grip and she opened her eyes to discover Rufus's hand still in hers. Judging by the whiteness of her knuckles, she had never let it go.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, quickly releasing her grip and wincing as blood rushed back into her fingers.

"Don't be," Rufus said, pulling her into a sidehug. "He's okay again."

Lucy hated herself for mentally tacking on the 'for now'.

* * *

"What do you have for me, Jiya?" Denise Christopher asked as she walked into the Lifeboat support lab. She stopped after just one step when she found the technician lying on the linoleum staring at the ceiling.

"Not a whole lot unfortunately," Jiya stammered as she scrambled to her feet.

"Then what were you doing on the floor?"

"Waiting for the search to finish." As soon as she was done speaking, Jiya desperately tried to fight back a yawn, with little success.

Denise glanced at her watch and realized that Jiya, almost with most everyone else on the staff, had been up for over twenty-four hours at this point. It was far past time for them to have a break. Before she sent her best tech home though, Denise needed to make sure there was no progress at all regarding Flynn's whereabouts.

"Were you able to come up with anything?" she questioned, nudging the cup sitting on the table closer toward Jiya. The tech smiled at Agent Christopher then grabbed the cup and took a swig of its contents. She made a face almost immediately and hurried to drop the cup into a nearby trash can. "I don't know what that was," she muttered as she scraped her tongue against her top teeth, "but it wasn't from today."

"Did you find anything about Flynn?" Denise repeated before Jiya could continue on her tangent.

"Wyatt's birthday is found in public records," Jiya began, somehow managing to speak without actually closing her mouth between words. "It wouldn't have taken Flynn long to find it, assuming he really wanted to keep Wyatt from making it back."

"It's the only thing that makes sense right now." Denise walked over to the communal fridge, pulled out a clear water bottle, then twisted off the cap and smelled it before handing it over to Jiya, who downed the entire thing in one gulp. The Homeland Security agent waited until Jiya had nodded, signalling Denise once again had her full attention, before continuing, "According to the Time Team, he wasn't successful in stopping Washington's inauguration and we weren't able to find another major historical event in that time frame…were we?"

Jiya shook her head. "We're still looking though for events of smaller magnitudes like meetings or introductions that might have happened," she said in her normal voice. "With the new database Mason secured for us, we have quite a bit more to sift through."

"And you have no more information about Flynn's current location?"

Jiya scrunched up her nose in an expression Denise had seen many times on her own daughter right before she was about to say something snarky. The tech though was able to refrain and say, in a perfectly level tone, "if I had anything you'd know about it. For some reason we can't locate him either in the past or present."

"So it's possible he's still back there." Christopher sighed internally as she weighed her choices. It was too much of a risk to send Rufus and Lucy back on their own, given that, until she heard otherwise, she had to assume Flynn had deliberately set-up the trip to take out one of the team….which raised another question.

"How is Flynn able to travel to times he's already been?"

"We're not sure he has," Jiya has quick to point out. "None of the team actually saw him here."

"But someone still had to pilot the Mothership and both he and Anthony are older than Wyatt."

"Unless one of the minions learned how to fly it—which I highly doubt, given my own personal struggles with the thing—then it has to be something about the Mothership itself. Lucy said Flynn went to the future; he might have taken some of the technology back in order to protect both himself and Anthony."

Denise had been afraid of that answer since that meant the current Time Team wouldn't be able to follow Flynn to any jump after 1984. Instead of losing herself in that possibility though, she refocused on what she could control around her; it was a coping mechanism she'd learned early in her law enforcement career when it felt like the amount of bad in the world far outweighed those trying to prevent it. And right now, her most pressing, actionable issue was ensuring her team took their much-needed break.

"The second shift can keep working on it," Denise stated. "You, Jiya, are going home."

"I really can't. With Rufus out, I need to—"

"I'm sure Jason or any of your coworkers are more than capable of reading the output of your search." Then Denise let her harsh expression fall away, knowing she wasn't going to make any progress with Jiya as 'her boss'. Instead, she talked to Jiya as a co-worker and maybe even a friend. "I know you're the most familiar with the Lifeboat and the Mothership but I will need you at your best, especially when we locate Flynn."

Jiya opened her mouth to protest but Denise shook her head. "Your security access is being suspended for the next two hours—three if you continue to argue."

Jiya silently closed her mouth, scowled, then sucked her bottom lip in through her teeth. "Two hours is fine," she ground out.

"Good. Now, if you'll come with me, I'll escort you out the building."

Jiya muttered something under her breath that sounded vaguely like "yes, mom," as she grabbed her keys but, before Denise could comment, Jiya straightened up, fixed her with a smile that was too wide to be real and led the way out of the lab.

* * *

Lucy was on her way back to Wyatt's room, after Nurse Rickards had forced her to take a quick break, when she heard a commotion at the front desk. Her curiosity piqued, she changed directions and walked into the large entryway to find a slightly-stooped man with weather-worn skin and close-cropped white hair angrily addressing Karen, the teen volunteer at the information desk.

"Where is he?" the man demanded.

The dark-haired teen looked slightly panicked but managed to hold her ground. "Sir, I need you to—"

"Where is my grandson!"

"Mr. Sherwin?" Lucy interrupted, though she knew the answer the moment the man turned his clear blue eyes on her.

"Yes, I'm Jesse Sherwin," he practically barked. Though his face had a comforting roundness to it, the effect was diminished by the rough lines of the rest of his body and the sharp tone in his voice. "Can you take me to my grandson or not?"

"Of course." Since she was carrying a cup of coffee in each hand, Lucy motioned down the rightmost hallway with her elbow. "I've got him Karen."

Wyatt's grandfather shot Karen a triumphant look, then hitched his duffel higher on his shoulder and strode purposefully toward the hallway.

"Mr. Mason's briefing says he needs a visitor's badge," Karen hissed once Wyatt's grandfather's was out of earshot.

"I think Mr. Mason will make an exception. Given that it was a work injury and all."

After a split second, Karen shrugged and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "Is it possible to get fired from a volunteer position?" she asked through gritted teeth.

A chuckle bubbled out of Lucy's mouth before she could stop it; it was the first time she'd shown a positive emotion since returning to the present. "I'll make sure to put in a good word with your supervisors, no matter what Mr. Mason says."

Karen smiled gratefully, then swiveled in her chair to address a confused woman who had been waiting patiently behind Wyatt's grandfather.

 _Speaking of..._

Lucy turned around to find the man in question already a great deal down the hallway. She broke into a light jog, careful to not spill the coffees, and quickly closed the distance between them.

"You're the woman who called me," Wyatt's grandfather said as soon as she had caught up to him.

"Yes, I am."

"I'm afraid to admit I've forgotten your name."

"Lucy."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wyatt's grandfather smile.

"What?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Wyatt talks a lot about you. I'm happy to put a face to a name."

Something inside her chest shifted but she ignored it. She was stretched emotionally thin as is—there was no reason to complicate it with things that _weren't_. "All good I hope," she replied conversationally.

"Mostly. Says you're a bit of a spitfire." There was something about the way he said it that let Lucy know it wasn't meant as an insult. Still, she was just about to open her mouth to fire back an explanation when Wyatt's grandfather continued, "but then again, my grandson isn't the most level-headed person in the world so who knows that the truth really is."

He turned to look at her and she saw the smile sparkling in his eyes. The expression was so similar to Wyatt's that Lucy had to look away.

"He's hanging in there," she said, hurriedly changing subjects before her own emotions broke free. "Had a tough night but he's still fighting."

"I was kept up-to-date on the flight over," Wyatt's grandfather responded. "But thank you."

Without warning, he reached over to lay a hand on Lucy's forearm. The historian, shocked by the contact, snapped to a halt, her brain short-circuiting about how to respond.

"How are you doing?" Wyatt's grandfather asked softly. Lucy stared at him in confusion but only saw kindness in his expression. "I know what it's like to have a friend hurt on the job," he continued. "How it takes a toll on everyone else—"

Feelings again bubbled up in Lucy's chest but she forced them back down. After schooling a neutral expression onto her face, she strode into motion again. "I'll be fine," she stated as she turned left at the fork in the hallway. "His room is just down here."

"Lucy, please."

Gritting her teeth, Lucy whirled around, sending coffee spraying into the air. "I appreciate your concern—Mr. Sherwin or whatever I'm supposed to call you—but I can't do this right now." Her voice was tight with the effort to keep herself together, her words short and strained. "You should be more concerned about your grandson considering he stopped breathing an hour ago."

"Jesse."

" _What?_ "

"You can call me Jesse. Mr. Sherwin sends me looking over my shoulder for my dad."

"Okay Jesse—"

Wyatt's grandfather cut Lucy off mid-breath. "I know you know I'm plenty concerned about my grandson. Unfortunately, it's all up to him now—there's nothing I can do but hope and pray. His friend, who is obviously beating herself up about _something_ though, I can try to help. Saves me from that useless feeling I usually get in these kinds of situations."

As well-intentioned as his gesture was, his continued kindness was too much for Lucy to handle in her current emotional state.

"Room 237," she said, practically throwing one of the coffees into Jesse's free hand before spinning on her heel and heading back the way they'd come. "Please give the coffee to Rufus."

"Where are you going?" Jesse asked, in a deeply concerned voice.

"For a walk."

A smattering of footsteps followed her but they ceased as quickly as they'd begun. "Please don't go—" Jesse pleaded. "I was just trying to help."

Lucy hesitated for a split second, considering, before the invisible vice around her chest tightened again. "Be back in an hour," she wheezed over her shoulder, without turning around. "Rufus knows how to get a hold of me if something happens."

"Lucy wait!" Jesse called but it was too late; the historian had already taken the first right into a nearby stairwell and the door had slammed shut behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

**This adventure takes place pre-finale so Lucy doesn't know her mom is Rittenhouse.**

* * *

Culberson Hospital, April 30th, 1983, 11 PM

 _Jesse Sherwin stood outside the door to his daughter's room, carrying a bouquet of flowers. His hand rested on the knob but he hadn't turned it yet._

 _Suddenly, there was a slight shove at the small of his back. "Go on," his wife Rebecca encouraged. "Don't you want to meet your grandson?"_

 _Jesse nodded, took a deep breath, then entered the room._

" _Hi dad," Melissa Logan whispered. She barely made eye contact with Jesse before her gaze drifted back down to the blue bundle in her arms. Her husband Drew sat on her left with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, wearing an expression of both awe and mild panic._

" _How ya doing, Missy?" Jesse asked as he dropped the flowers on the nightstand then leaned over and kissed his daughter on the top of her head. From that vantage point, he was also given the first glimpse of his grandson. The child was sleeping peacefully in his daughter's arms, oblivious to the stress his birth had caused. Only moments ago, Rebecca had informed Jesse that their grandson hadn't been breathing when he'd been born. Fortunately, she had also known that the newborn had been quick to respond to the nurse's treatment, though he'd be spending the night under observation as a precaution._

" _We're both fine," Melissa replied, tilting her head back so she could look her dad in the eyes. Though she looked exhausted, her face shone as only a new mother's could._

 _Jesse dropped his head so it rested against the top of Melissa's. "He's beautiful. Congrats to you both."_

" _Thank you, dad." A wide smile crossed Melissa's face before she raised her arms slightly, thus pushing her son closer to Jesse. "Do you want to hold him?"_

" _I'd love to."_

 _The baby grunted as Rebecca lifted him out of Melissa's grip and, for a moment, the entire room thought he was burst into tears. Then his face softened and he quickly slipped back into sleep._

" _His name is Wyatt Michael," Melissa announced as Rebecca transferred the newborn into Jesse's waiting arms. "He's 8 pounds, 3 ounces and 21 inches long."_

 _Jesse was too busy staring at the slumbering child to respond. When his ability to consciously think returned, he reached over with his right hand and ran the back of his index finger along his grandson's cheek, grinning as the newborn reflexively sought out his touch. Then, he bent down, brushed his lips against the baby's forehead and whispered, "Welcome to the world, baby Wyatt."_

* * *

 _Present Day_

Twenty minutes after Lucy had left, Jesse Sherwin was still standing outside Wyatt's hospital room. He was unable to make himself go in, knowing it would make the fact that his grandson was seriously injured real. Deep down, Jesse knew that his brain not accepting the reality of the situation was a coping mechanism, but he couldn't find it within himself to throw the guise away. The fear of losing another family member, combined with the way he'd pushed at Lucy, despite recognizing her panicked expression, had left him floundering to keep himself together.

It was only after the same nurse passed him for the third time that Jesse knew he couldn't put off the inevitable any longer. He took a deep breath, ran a hand nervously through his hair, then entered the room.

A dark-skinned man who was sitting beside Wyatt immediately sprang to his feet, his thumb hovering over the emergency call button.

"Calm down…Rufus," Jesse ventured and the other man nodded hesitantly. "I'm Jesse Sherwin, Wyatt's grandfather." He then held out the coffee. "This is from Lucy."

It took Rufus another moment before he nodded, put down the handheld paging device, then reached for the coffee. "Thanks," he mumbled while taking a pull of the drink.

At that point, Rufus might have asked another question but Jesse was no longer listening, his attention laser-focused on his unconscious grandson.

"Any news?" Jesse asked as he dropped into the chair beside Wyatt and immediately pulled his grandson's hand into his. Wyatt's palm was rough and calloused like it had been ever since he'd been old enough to pull his weight on the family ranch. Jesse would never forget the first day the gap-toothed blond had dragged him over to see the (admittedly small) section of the fence he'd helped construct and the blister he'd earned doing it. From his proud expression though, one would have thought Wyatt'd built the entire thing.

A wave of nostalgia rolled over Jesse and he gripped Wyatt's hand tighter. He had loved every minute of teaching Wyatt the ropes of his ranch and, while he understood the call to duty, he had been more than a little sad when his best worker had driven away.

Suddenly, there was a gentle hand on his shoulder, snapping Jesse back to the present.

"Are you alright?" Rufus asked, quickly straightening up so he was back on the other side of the bed.

Jesse nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.

Rufus must have realized this, for he began a one-sided conversation about Wyatt's current condition, who the doctors and nurses were, and more. It was only after he'd filled Jesse in on Wyatt's schedule for the rest of the day that he'd taken a deep breath and asked, "Where _is_ Lucy, by the way? I assume you ran into her because one, you knew her name and two, she gave you my coffee."

"She went for a walk," Jesse responded, having had Rufus' entire monologue to free the lump in his throat and calm his heartrate. "She told me to tell you she'd be back in an hour."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse saw Rufus' face wrinkle with concern. "Is that unusual?" he questioned, as a general feeling of unease settled over him.

Rufus shrugged. "I guess not. It's been a long few days for all of us."

As Jesse glanced back over at Wyatt, Rufus peeked into the pouch of his hoodie, hoping to see his phone flashing with a text from Lucy. He'd sent her a message as soon as Jesse had showed up without her, but still had yet to receive a response.

Unfortunately, his phone remained dark.

Scowling, Rufus sat back in his chair and stared at Jesse. Now that he had time to just think, the family resemblance between Jesse and Wyatt was obvious, from the shape of their faces to the color of their eyes.

And suddenly, Rufus had thousands of questions he wanted to ask Jesse about Wyatt, who was still something of a closed book even after all their time together. He was down for any normal stories about Wyatt's past, such as what he'd been like as a kid, or whether he'd always been this straight-laced, but any (moderately) embarrassing stories Jesse wanted to share would just be an added bonus. Wyatt seen Rufus struggle on more than one mission, due to his extreme dislike for the outdoors, but the pilot had yet to have any material on Wyatt, who seemed to be good at just about everything.

As much as he wanted to ask though, he wasn't sure if this was an appropriate time. He had just opened his mouth to test the waters with a few benign queries when Jesse looked away from Wyatt and fixed his gaze on Rufus. "Wyatt speaks very highly of you. Says you're one of the smartest men he's ever worked with."

Rufus didn't know how to respond, having not expected that _at all_. He knew Wyatt trusted and respected him but none of the team had ever explicitly said anything of that magnitude to each other.

Jesse must have recognized Rufus' hesitation for the corners of his eyes crinkled up slightly. "He also said you weren't the best at taking compliments. But I think you should have that one, considering you saved his life."

"It's nothing he wouldn't have done for either of us," Rufus finally managed to say.

Jesse nodded, his face splashed with an emotion Rufus didn't quite recognize, then fell silent. They sat that way for ten more minutes, during which Jesse alternated between paging through Wyatt's file or tending to Wyatt in some capacity, while Rufus checked his phone constantly for a message from either Lucy or Jiya.

When his phone remained silent on both counts, Rufus knew he had to do something before he went crazy. "Have any good stories about Wyatt?" he asked casually. "To pass the time, of course."

Jesse looked up from Wyatt and smiled widely. "I have thirty-four years' worth. What would you like to know?"

* * *

So much was different in this timeline that Lucy wasn't even sure where she could run to. Noah was in her apartment and she didn't want to deal with her mother in this state (which she knew only prolonged Carolyn's accusations that Lucy was lying to her, but today it couldn't be avoided).

Her body seemed to move of its own accord and, almost before she knew it, she was at the park a half-mile from her mother's home. It was the park she and Amy had spent many hours at growing up and, to this day, it was one of her favorite places to just go and think.

She turned off the engine then walked over to the bench by the playground which was free of occupants at the late hour. The whole play area had been remodeled in the last year, with less death-defying attractions and a shade over the main section, but it still felt the same to her: safe, comforting, and warm. Her heart felt just that much lighter as some good memories snuck their way into her current mood.

She stared at the circular slide and let out a long exhale. It'd been wrong to snap at Jesse, she knew that—it was just that her emotions had already been on high alert thanks to the many similarities between this and her mom's situation in the original timeline, before Jesse had even read her so easily.

She knew she had a tendency to wear her heart on her sleeve but she thought she was better at hiding her emotions than that, especially since showing fear in a classroom of college-aged students who could care less about the subject material, was grounds for five long and uncomfortable months of them trying to outsmart her. For that reason too, she wasn't used to anyone fighting her battles for her. She fought every day against her students, trying to impart knowledge, even to those who were only taking the class to have enough credits to graduate. It'd been a lesson she'd learned early from her mother, who had raised her single-handedly until Henry Wallace, Amy's father, had come along.

She pulled the tie out of her hair and scritched her fingers along her scalp in wide circles, while fighting to pull herself together. It was a long and tedious process though with the slew of emotions threatening to swallow her whole. There was her original hate of the whole Flynn/Lifeboat/Mothership situation (despite the opportunities to experience the past it had afforded her), the guilt over Wyatt being injured (which she logically knew wasn't her fault but she had had a part in allowing him to pass off the early symptoms as nothing), and her frustration and embarrassment over the Jesse "don't-call-me-Mr.-Sherwin" situation. That was without even mentioning the long-standing issues of Amy's erasure, Noah's existence and her uneasy relationship with her mother.

Her heart skipped a beat and she knew she had to get it together before she drowned in the "what could have been's". After taking a deep breath, she kicked her feet up and lay on the hard plastic bench.

Her strength had always been focusing on what she could actively control in the present; unfortunately, the overlap between that and her previous list was pretty much nothing but she didn't let that dissuade her.

She breathed in and out slowly while staring at the stars, silently making a list of what her next actions were going to be.

As was always the case, she found muscles relaxing with each quantitative step until she was fully resting against the bench. As guilty as she felt for the entire Wyatt situation, the only thing she could do about it now would be to go back to the hospital and help him in whatever capacity she could, whether that be sitting by his bed until he wakes, or finding out more information about Jimmy, the original pilot, for which the First Rule of Time Travel had been instated.

Her mind made up, Lucy took another deep breath then sat up and walked back toward her car, feeling considerably more at peace than she had been when she arrived.

* * *

Just before dawn, Agent Christopher walked back into the Lifeboat support lab.

"We found Flynn!" someone shouted from off to her right and it took every ounce of Denise's self-restraint to keep her from initiating an emergency protocol. When this whole situation was over, she and the team were going to have a serious talk about announcing their presence, especially when armed Homeland Security officers were involved.

Once her heart returned to her chest, Denise looked over to see Jiya grinning widely and pointing at the large elevated screen. She was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, which probably had something to do with the enormous cup of coffee in her hand. The other three people in the lab were trying to muster up similar levels of enthusiasm but were failing miserably. They didn't even have the energy to be surprised by Jiya's supersonic exclamations.

"Where is he?" Denise demanded, stepping closer to the projection.

"El Grenada, by the docks."

Agent Christopher smiled, not for the revelation but for what this meant for Flynn. "Send me—"

"The coordinates are already in your email."

"Good work team," Denise said before turning on her heel and leaving the room. By the time she reached the elevator, she had already forwarded Flynn's coordinates to Sgt. Caleb Mitner, who was in charge of the raid team she'd assembled late last night for just this eventuality, and received confirmation that said team was ready to go.

The elevator deposited her next to the conference room above the Lifeboat bay where a temporary command post had already been set up. Cameras from Mitner's team were being broadcast on a bank of monitors in front of her and they were being maintained by Jason Hagen, another tech on the Lifeboat team, who was sitting against the rightmost wall, typing furiously on his laptop.

Denise poured herself a cup of coffee from the hastily set-up snack table, dropped into the seat which provided the best view of all six monitors, then settled herself in for a long wait.

* * *

 **Up next: More kid!Wyatt stories and finally a bit of good news.**

 **Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: According to the newspaper clippings on Wyatt's desk, Jess was murdered in San Diego. However, if Wyatt still lived there, the army would have had to fly him to Palo Alto for the Hindenberg trip. Since they wouldn't have picked someone who was drunk, Wyatt had to be somewhere he could have gotten himself to Mason Industries, which means he lives in the Palo Alto area.**

* * *

The stories from Jesse made the long night considerably more entertaining. Not only had Rufus learned how Wyatt had lost his first tooth (walking into a pole while watching a girl instead of where his feet were heading); how he'd insisted on carrying the cake for Grandpa Sherwin's birthday but, in his eight-year-old excitement, had ended up faceplanting in it instead (luckily Grandma Becky had been able to refrost it though Wyatt's dad swore it tasted different than usual); and how he'd been a straight-A student through high school; but he'd also learned that Wyatt had set the elementary school record for most detentions in a year.

"For what?" Rufus asked, as that was polar opposite behavior of each story Jesse had told so far.

"For getting into fights." It has here Jesse hesitated, having realizing the true reason was something Wyatt might not have shared with Rufus before. He recovered quickly and said it was because of the other kids thought Wyatt was an easy target due to his smaller stature—which had been true; the boy had been undersized until sophomore year of high school.

The other reason that Jesse kept to himself was that Wyatt was often picked on because he was the poorest kid at school. Despite Missy's teaching job and Drew working at the Sherwin ranch (even with his MBA he couldn't find a decent job in town), their salaries together were barely enough to keep the family afloat after paying rent and Drew's student loans. Wyatt was often seen in secondhand clothes, which he was quick to grow out of despite his smaller size, and during one particularly tough year, was on state-provided lunches. Jesse and Rebecca chipped in whenever they could but money was tight for them as well, as the ranch was suffering from drought, the market, and almost everything else. It wasn't until years later, after Wyatt was in junior high, that the ranch began to turn a profit and things had improved...all except Drew, which was a story only he and Wyatt needed to know.

Jesse must have played off the half-truth well for Rufus hardly commented other than a surprised, "I wouldn't have guessed it." He seemed distracted though and kept sneaking peeks at his hoodie pocket, as if Jesse wouldn't know what was going on.

"Why don't you just call her?" he suggested after Rufus scowled yet again.

The other man sat bold upright, as all kids do when they've been caught doing something they think they weren't supposed to be.

"She obviously needs space," Rufus replied as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and laid it on the rolling table, obviously no longer trying to be discrete.

"You could do that 'find my phone' thing."

Rufus shook his head. "There are some lines you just don't cross. Besides, she'd kill me." Then he paused. "I'm surprised you know about that thou—" He let the rest of the sentence die as he realized what he'd been about to imply.

Jesse just shrugged as a smile flitted over his face. "I've always liked technology. Especially when it makes my life easier."

Rufus' expression changed to one of newfound respect but, before he could respond, Lucy walked back through the door, looking significantly less stressed than when she'd left.

She didn't acknowledge Rufus in the slightest and headed straight for Jesse, who struggled out of his chair to stand for her. "I'm sorry," she blurted out as soon as they were face-to-face. "You were trying to be nice and I—"

Jesse held up a hand to cut her off. "I understand Lucy. No need to explain. I'm sorry I forced the issue."

"You didn't. I wasn't in the right place to listen." She looked so distraught that Jesse did what any reasonable grandfather would do: he held his arms out wide.

Lucy drifted into them without a second's hesitation.

Rufus watched them for another moment, not wanting to interrupt, but, at some point, his desire to know what had happened won out. "Someone wanna fill me in?"

"It's nothing," Lucy said with a breathless laugh as she pulled out of Jesse's embrace. "Just our less than stellar introduction."

"Water under the bridge, I hope," Jesse added.

Lucy smiled and nodded. A split second later, she hurried over to Rufus' side of Wyatt's bed and wrapped her arms around him as well. "I'm sorry I didn't text back. I had a few things to work out."

"I'm just happy you're safe," Rufus said, twisting from the waist so he could return the hug.

After a long minute, Lucy straightened up. "You know, if you want to take a break, catch a shower, spend some time with Jiya, I'll sit with Wyatt," she offered.

Rufus wanted to decline but then, as if on cue, he caught a whiff of himself. "I should go do that," he stated, quickly heading for the door. "You'll let me know if something happens?"

"Of course."

Once Rufus was gone, Lucy dropped into the chair he'd vacated and turned to examine the readouts on the machines surrounding Wyatt.

Jesse waited until she was done before speaking up, "I don't suppose you'd want to hear more of my stories? Rufus seemed to enjoy them and they're a pretty good distraction."

Lucy, who had been sold even before Jesse felt the need to justify it, smiled warmly. "I'd love to."

* * *

Jiya's intel had been accurate and the El Grenada warehouses were indeed where the Mothership was being kept. Unfortunately, by the time Sergeant Mitner's team had arrived, Flynn had climbed into the time machine and vanished. In his haste however, Karl, one of his henchmen, had been left behind.

Mitner had taken Karl into custody and delivered him straight to a top secret base, where he'd been fingerprinted and had a DNA swab taken before ending up in an interrogation room, where he'd been sitting for the last ninety-three minutes. He'd asked for a lawyer several times but Agent Christopher, who was pacing in the adjacent observation room, gave no indication she'd heard him.

For better or worse, she could chalk this one up to National Security.

After letting him stew for another eighteen minutes, she spun on her heel and marched into the interrogation room.

"Where's Flynn!" she demanded, slamming her hand against the metal table.

Karl didn't so much as blink at the show of force. "I don't know."

"I don't believe you."

"That's your loss, sweetheart."

He was trying to unnerve her, show he was superior, but Denise kept her expression neutral as she walked around the table. She stopped only when she was directly behind Karl.

"Where is Garcia Flynn?"

"I don't know," Karl replied as he continued to stare straight ahead.

"Why did you go back to 1983?"

"I have no idea."

Denise leaned over his shoulder so he would be able to see her out of the corner of his eye. "This is going to go a lot easier for you if you tell the truth."

Finally, Karl turned his head to make eye-contact with her. His expression was purposefully vacant but she could tell it wasn't due to ignorance. There was a haughty note behind it, cluing her into the fact that he knew more than he was letting on.

"We know all about you Karl Szczepanski-Moore," Denise continued as she walked around the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. "Born 1984 in Augusta, Maine. Lived there almost your whole life until you met a girl, who you followed to California six years ago."

Karl shrugged. "So you Googled me? Big deal."

Denise's stomach clenched painfully as she prepared her next move but she forced the uneasy feeling away; she needed to think like an agent in order to determine whether the rest of her team was in danger and what Flynn's plans were to rewrite history. "I'm guessing not many people know about your daughter, since your name isn't on her birth certificate." Though Denise had prepared for this eventuality, she'd been sincerely hoping she hadn't had to use that intel, mostly since it preyed on her fear that her own kids could be used against her one day.

"How did you—" Karl sputtered, his eyes flashing in anger.

"The time machine was Connor Mason's. Do you think there's any rock he wouldn't turn over when you put his team at risk?"

His expression hardened. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" Years of practice kept Christopher's hand from shaking as she pulled out her phone, opened an email from Jiya and showed Karl the attachment.

The color drained out of Karl's face in less than a second.

"She stays out of this."

"Tell me what I want to know."

"I don't know where Flynn is. And I don't know why we went back to 1983."

Denise slammed her hand again against the table, this time making Karl jump. "Not good enough!"

"Flynn never tells me that stuff," Karl insisted. "It's just 'wear this outfit', 'find this guy', 'keep Wyatt away from me'. I never get details."

"Did you have a real mission back in 1983 or was your sole purpose putting Master Sergeant Logan's life at risk?"

There was a flash of surprise around the corners of his mouth, a slight twitch of his brows. "We what?"

"You must know the rules of time travel. You can't go back to a time you already exist in. Your mission in 1983 nearly killed Master Sergeant Logan."

Karl shook his head. "We had a real mission, or at least it seemed like we did. Some Rittenhouse honcho was there meeting his future in-laws. He wasn't a real big name like some of the others but he apparently would go on to do a fair amount of damage in Rittenhouse's name."

"Did you stop them?"

Karl shook his head. "No, the intel was bad, which was why we waited around to see if they would arrive just at a later date."

"So you had nothing to do with Mayor Washington's inauguration?"

"Who?"

Denise determined his confusion was genuine.

"So you're telling me this is a huge coincidence that you went back to the day Master Sergeant Logan was born."

Karl shrugged. "I guess so, yeah. Now about my daughter—"

Without letting him finish, Agent Christopher stood up to leave. "You'll be expected to write down everything and anything you know about Flynn or his associates."

"What about my daughter?"

"You have my word she will be safe." Christopher wanted to leave it at that but, by the time she walked to the exit, she knew she couldn't be that cruel. She looked over her shoulder and added, "By the way, your daughter was never in any danger. Unlike Flynn we don't have to resort to abuse or murder to get our jobs done."

Karl exhaled loudly, his shoulders slumping in relief. "He promised me a better world for her. One free of some of the worst events in our history."

"You can't just change the past so easily. By taking out someone evil, you might have only paved the way for someone worse!"

"I realized that after one of the first few missions."

It was probably a trap but it was too good of an opportunity for Denise to pass up. "Then why didn't you quit?" she asked, turning to face Karl completely after her neck began to cramp.

The henchman only shrugged. "You could say the money but really, getting to go back in time and interact with these people. It was worth it."

"I sincerely hope so," Christopher stated, her expression as unforgiving as a brick wall. "Should Master Sergeant Logan not make it, you can expect a charge of manslaughter to be added to your list of offenses."

Before he could answer, she slammed the door closed behind her and motioned for her second-in-charge, Betsy Fleetwood, to take over.

* * *

When the sun broke hours later, Wyatt was still unconscious, though his vitals were growing stronger. There were still an alarming number of machines around his bed but his skin was no longer ghostly white and he had small spots of color in his cheeks again.

"He made it through the night," Dr. Bright stated, rather unnecessarily, as she performed a preliminary examination.

"My grandson is a fighter," Jesse said proudly, though his grip tightened on Wyatt's hand as if more bad news would strike once she was finished talking.

Fortunately, nothing tragic happened for the remainder of Wyatt's examination.

"He's healing nicely, all things considered," Dr. Bright commented after checking the stitches in Wyatt's abdomen. She then stripped off her gloves then recorded her notes in Wyatt's chart.

When she was done, she turned to face Wyatt's three companions. "Now that the worst is behind us, I'd advise the three of you to go home, shower, eat at real meal, even get some sleep."

"We've all left at some point," Lucy was quick to respond.

"You both were gone for barely two hours and Mr. Sherwin hasn't left at all."

"And I don't plan on it," Jesse retorted, shifting his weight back into his chair.

"I can kick all of you out if I have to," Dr. Bright informed them, a warning note lining her tone. "You will be notified of any changes as soon as they occur." When the three continued to stand there, she switched tactics. "I understand your desire to be near Wyatt but you're no good to him if you all end up in the rooms next to him."

"He's not safe here," Rufus blurted out. Even though Christopher had informed them that Flynn had not been actively trying to kill Wyatt, Rufus wasn't sure he wouldn't try, given Wyatt's current defenseless state. A split second later, he winced, thinking he revealed too much, before remembering that Jesse had been told that Wyatt had been hurt protecting him and Lucy.

Rufus breathed a short-lived sigh of relief as Dr. Bright…smiled?

"I take it you haven't noticed the extra guards patrolling the floor, courtesy of Agent Christopher," she replied. "There were two agents assigned to either of you when you left as well."

Two-thirds of the Time Team blinked in surprise. "There were?"

"After all that has happened, do you think she'd let the two of you wander about the city on your own?" Dr. Bright looked at the two of them with almost disapproval. "You should know her better than that."

"I guess leaving for one hour wouldn't hurt," Jesse finally ceded as he creaked to his feet. "Especially considering I'm not being given much choice."

Dr. Bright shook her head. "No, you are not. We'll see you when you get back," she stated before dropping the file in the holder at the end of Wyatt's bed and leaving the room. She didn't tell them that tonight visiting hours would be strictly enforced now that Wyatt's condition was no longer critical, figuring she'd scored a large enough victory for the moment.

It wasn't until Rufus, Lucy and Jesse were all standing in the hallway that Rufus realized he had no idea if Connor had made any sort of sleeping arrangements for Wyatt's grandfather.

"Where are you going to go, Jesse?"

The older man shrugged. "I'll find a hotel nearby," he said with an one-armed shrug. "Don't worry about me son. Back in my prime, I used to sleep on rocks under the stars." He put his hands behind his hips, leaned slightly back to stretch out his spine, and winced. "Nowadays, I need a little more support though," he finished with a chuckle. "Whatever the hotel has will be more than fine."

Lucy looked at Wyatt through the small window in the metal door. "We can't just leave you on your own," she said as she turned back to face Jesse. Not only was she sure Wyatt wouldn't let any of their out-of-town family stay in a strange hotel, but she'd also had proper manners instilled in her at an early age by her mother. If only things weren't so strained between them, she could have brought Jesse over there. As is though, Lucy was concerned it would worsen the situation.

"I'll be fine, Lucy. Go home, get some sleep, don't think about either of us for an hour," Jesse insisted.

"Can't you at least stay at Wyatt's place?" Lucy pressed.

Jesse shook his head, his gaze travelling downwards to the laminate flooring. "I haven't been to a home of Wyatt's since Jessica was alive," he said softly. "The army moved him here two years ago but my boy always comes back to the ranch to visit. It wouldn't feel right to go there now, without him."

"You'll stay with me," Rufus announced. "Well, with my mom…and my brother."

"I couldn't possibly impose—"

Lucy leaned toward Jesse, cupped her hand over her mouth as if to block Rufus from overhearing, but then stage-whispered, "I wouldn't argue with him. He doesn't know the meaning of the word 'no'."

"I heard that," Rufus scowled but the expression faded as he saw Jesse's expression falter. "My mom's already expecting us for breakfast," he continued, holding up his phone to show the texting conversation. "You really don't want to disappoint her."

Jesse's gaze danced between Wyatt's friends before he nodded. "I'd be honored to stay with you and your family, Rufus."

"Good." Rufus turned to look at Lucy. "You're invited too…ya know, if you don't want to go home yet."

Lucy considered this for a moment. "Breakfast at your mom's would be great," she decided, knowing she'd be in a much better mood after a real meal, but more importantly, strong coffee. It would fortify her for the discussion she and her mother were bound to have because she hadn't come home last night.

* * *

One week later, Wyatt had made remarkable improvements despite the fact he still hadn't regained consciousness. The number of machines around his bed had lessened with each day that passed: the ventilator had disappeared after the second night and the oxygen mask had turned into a cannula, which had gone away all together when Wyatt began breathing on his own. Doctors, nurses, pharmacy techs, and physical therapists came and went, their names getting lost in the amount of traffic, no matter how Jesse tried to keep them all straight.

That afternoon, Jesse was reading a novel beside Wyatt's bedside when Dr. Bright stopped by for a check-up. She did a physical exam, declared his wounds to be healing, but then stared at the monitors for longer than usual.

"Is something wrong?" Jesse asked, immediately putting down his book.

"Quite the opposite." Dr. Bright pointed to the EEG monitor which was measuring Wyatt's brain activity. "I think he's starting to wake up."


	6. Chapter 6

It didn't take Rufus long to learn that waking up in the hospital was nothing like he'd ever seen in the movies. After getting Jesse's text, he'd raced back to the hospital, wanting to be there when Wyatt opened his eyes. Only then did the pilot learn that it might still take Wyatt some time to come around. Sure enough, the soldier didn't instantly regain consciousness, though he continued to silently improve over the next few days.

When Wyatt began to reflexively respond to stimuli, Rufus was sure it was finally over, that Wyatt would wake up and be alright; then he was told, by Lucy no less, that it was possible to take a while to regain full consciousness. It was as if Wyatt had heard her, for it took him a few more hours before he finally opened his eyes.

His friends and family sat up in hopeful anticipation but Wyatt's eyelids almost immediately closed again.

"Damn," Rufus muttered under his breath as he slouched back into his seat.

"I told you not to get your hopes up," Lucy said, her fingers drumming anxiously against the seat of her chair.

Knowing Jiya would understand, Rufus reached over and took Lucy's hand. He couldn't imagine what this was like for her, after all she had been through with her mother in their original timeline. "Maybe next time," he said with as much hope as he could muster.

Just then, Wyatt made an incoherent sound and his eyes slid open again.

"You back with us, Wyatt?" Jesse asked, his voice brimming with hope.

It was another direct contradiction to everything Rufus had seen onscreen when Wyatt didn't suddenly regain the ability to speak either. In fact, from the blank expression on his face, it was hard to tell if he even recognized them.

Jesse creaked to his feet and leaned over the bed so he was directly in Wyatt's line of sight but the soldier's expression never changed. Undeterred, Jesse began to talk to Wyatt about everything that was new on the ranch, back in Van Horn, and anything else that came to mind.

At that rate they were going, Rufus personally thought this was sort of a long shot, but, after a few moments, he was proven wrong when Wyatt's gaze focused slightly.

"Wyatt?" Jesse prompted.

The soldier ever-so-slowly opened his mouth but all that came out was a harsh exhale. His brow furrowed—though that may have been more Rufus' imagination than reality—and he swallowed hard. In typical Wyatt fashion though, he didn't give up and, after a few more false more attempts, he was finally able to rasp out a soft, "Gr'pa?"

Jesse smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, as he took Wyatt's hand in his and pulled it close to his chest. "Yes, son, I'm here."

Wyatt's gaze lingered on his grandfather for another long moment. Then, with great effort, he rolled his gaze to the left and focused on Lucy.

"Hi Wyatt," she said softly. "Welcome back."

Recognition came slightly quicker this time and, within a minute, Wyatt managed to mumble out something that sounded like her name.

Lucy nodded as tears of joy sprang into her eyes. "I'm so happy you're awake," she said as she ran her hand up and down his arm.

Wyatt stared at her for another few moments before he shifted his gaze to the pilot. "R'fus," he said, this time more a statement than a question.

A wide grin split the pilot face as he reached over and grabbed Wyatt's hand. Mindful of the IV in the crook of Wyatt's elbow, Rufus lifted their hands into the air and shook them gently but triumphantly in a pseudo- _Rocky_ celebration. "Hey man. You made it."

Wyatt nodded then grimaced. Rufus instantly dropped Wyatt's hand, afraid he'd inadvertently hurt his friend, but the unhappy expression on the soldier's face persisted.

"Are you in pain?" Jesse asked softly but, in lieu of a response, Wyatt's gaze unfocused until he was staring at the cream-colored wall behind his friends and family. Confusion washed over his face, beginning with the small creases around his eyes and working down to the slight lift of his upper lip.

Fortunately, that was one expression Jesse Sherwin was capable of handling.

"You're in the hospital," he said softly, leaning further over the bed so he was again in Wyatt's line of sight. "You were in an accident at work."

Wyatt just blinked, showing no evidence he'd heard his grandfather.

"We should probably call the doctor," Lucy suggested after a moment and Jesse nodded, though his eyes never left his grandson.

Just as Rufus pushed the emergency call button, Wyatt's brow furrowed and his expression sharpened. "'lynn?" he mumbled.

Rufus knew Jesse had signed an NDA before he'd stepped off Mason's private plane but that the details being shared were still few and far between. For example, Agent Christopher had told Jesse Wyatt had been in an accident while protecting Rufus and Lucy, who were working on a highly classified project for the government. Nothing about time travel or Garcia Flynn had been mentioned.

Still, the question was innocuous enough that Rufus could answer it without giving away any government secrets. "He got away," Rufus replied. "Washington is fine though. He was never the target."

Wyatt stared for a long while at Rufus before he closed his eyes in a long, drawn-out blink that Rufus took to mean Wyatt understood. Then, the soldier rolled his head to the right and stared at his grandfather. "'mma…be fine," he stated, even managing to widen his eyes slightly to emphasize his point.

That one very-Wyatt gesture was all it took for Jesse to be completely convinced his grandson was going to be alright. As a laugh burst from his chest and tears of joy fell freely down his face, he tipped forward and pulled Wyatt into the best hug he could manage. "I'm so glad to hear that."

It was only because his ear was close to Wyatt's mouth that he heard his grandson mutter something mostly incoherent that sounded vaguely like an apology.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Jesse declared as he placed his hand on the side of Wyatt's face and brushed his thumb along his grandson's cheek, mindful of the still-healing bruises. "None of this is your fault!"

Wyatt mumbled something else but it was lost as he began to blink slowly, owlishly, like he had when he was little and wanted to prove he could stay up like a big kid. Recognizing these signs, Jesse straightened up, using the bed rail for leverage when his back protested. "Get some sleep, son," he instructed as he pulled the sheets higher over Wyatt's chest.

Wyatt didn't even respond before he succumbed to the demanding pull of the drugs.

* * *

The next time Wyatt woke up, he quickly discovered he had much more conscious control of his body; his eyelids no longer felt like thousand pound weights and lifting them hardly required any effort.

When he'd done that, he discovered Rufus sitting off to his left, engrossed in his phone. While the pilot was otherwise occupied, Wyatt used that time to do a quick self-examination. He couldn't feel much, thanks to the two large bags hanging on a pole above his bed, but he was able to see a patchwork of bandages on his chest and arms peeking out from his hospital gown. He tried wiggling his fingers and toes and was rewarded by slight, almost imperceptible movement.

Satisfied with his progress for the moment, he looked over at Rufus, who still hadn't noticed he was awake. "Hey," he croaked out, then immediately winced as the single syllable grated against his throat.

"Hey…hey!" Rufus snapped to his feet, sending the chair crashing to the ground. "How are you? Should I call a nurse? Where is Lucy? She's better with all this. Nurse! Nurse first!"

Wyatt tried to move his hand to grab Rufus' arm but even that small motion send waves of pain through his torso. While the computer genius continued to panic responsibly, Wyatt swirled around what little saliva he had managed to accrue, swallowed hard, then barked, "Rufus!" with all the force he could muster.

The pilot stopped speaking and stared at Wyatt.

"'m okay," Wyatt stated. He then shifted slightly in bed as his back began to ache.

"If you've seen yourself lately, you know that's not true," Rufus retorted but he did settle back into his seat. A split second later, he bounced up again and offered Wyatt a glass of water. The soldier chased the bendy straw around the rim for a moment then drained the entire glass.

"More?"

Wyatt nodded and Rufus refilled the glass from the plastic pitcher.

"Thanks," Wyatt rasped when that one was empty as well.

Rufus just nodded and sat back down. He was silent for another two seconds before his expression sobered. "Why didn't you tell us when your birthday was?" he asked quietly.

Wyatt managed to lift one shoulder a quarter of an inch, hoping Rufus understood what he meant. "Didn't do it…on purpose. Just don't…celebrate it much…these days."

"Jesse says he calls you every year on your birthday. I don't know how you could have—"

"We left…a whole…month early."

"Oh." Rufus looked appropriately chagrined for not realizing that sooner.

Wyatt chucked slightly at his friend's expression, which turned out to be a mistake when it set off a coughing fit. Rufus dove rather spectacularly for the glass of water and proceeded to help Wyatt take a few long drinks.

As the coughing died down, Wyatt's stomach began to knot for reasons he didn't understand. He was too tired to pay it much attention though and chose to focus all his remaining energy on Rufus.

"An'thing change?"

"You mean with you?"

Wyatt nodded.

"I mean, you're going to have to check yourself since I don't have a lot to compare it to but I _acquired_ your medical records and it looks like you were born at 10:31 PM, not 8:30 and spend the night under observation because you had trouble breathing."

Wyatt shook his head. "Never 'appen'd."

"Didn't think so." Rufus pulled up his phone and scanned the page again. "But you made an amazing recovery that night and were able to be released the next morning. The nurse notes it was the strangest case she'd ever seen."

Wyatt just nodded, as his drive to stay awake began to falter.

"This also says you were a small-ish kid, all the way up until high school."

"Tha'sa truth," Wyatt answered with a lopsided grin.

Now it was Rufus' turn to nod, though there was something in his expression Wyatt couldn't place.

"You and Lucy…holding up alright?" he asked drowsily.

Rufus snorted. "Yeah, Wyatt, we're both fine. She's over at her mom's trying to mend some bridges. Apparently she could only use your sudden illness as a ploy to avoid the conversation for so long."

Wyatt felt like he was missing some of the context there but he gamely nodded, glad Lucy was working on repairing her relationship with her mother. After all she'd been through, discovering her sister had been wiped from existence, that her father was Rittenhouse, she deserve the win of having some time with her healthy mother.

And just that train of thought was enough to tire him out again.

"Think I need to…close my eyes," he said, doing exactly what he promised.

"You do what you need to do. One of us will be here when you get up again."

"Where is…Gran'pa Sherwin?" Wyatt asked as he drifted off.

"He's staying—"

That was it. Wyatt's eyes flew open and he sat slightly up, which turned out to be another critical error as agony stabbed into his midsection and the monitors screaming around him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rufus asked, pressing Wyatt back into the bed.

"Where's'e staying?" Wyatt demanded through harsh, shallow breaths.

"At my place."

The knot in Wyatt's stomach unwound almost instantly, though the rest of his body was slow to do the same.

Unfortunately, the blaring alarms sent two nurses hurrying into his room. Once they discovered their patient was awake, they introduced themselves then did an entire examination, which included having Wyatt stick out his tongue, wiggle his fingers, rack off a few identifying facts and current events, and touch his nose after fully extending his arm. While this was going on, Rufus huddled in the corner, trying to stay out of their way, and spend the time sending out a group message informing everyone that Wyatt was awake and fending all the follow-up questions.

The second the nurses were gone, Rufus dropped into a displaced plastic chair and scooted it closer to Wyatt's bed. "I may be grossly overstepping but why don't you want Jesse to stay with you?"

Wyatt was quiet for a moment and he began to absently fiddle with the sheet. "I'm still not…over Jessica," he finally managed.

"Well yeah, we all know that," Rufus replied, his confusion splashed over his face. "Does your grandfather not know?"

"He does. But this is different." Wyatt shifted slightly and winced. "I need you…to do me...a f'vor."

"Anything."

"Go to my house…and take the stuff…off the wall…in the guest bedroom."

"What kind of stuff?" Rufus asked cautiously. "Like weird—"

"No!" Wyatt exclaimed, setting off another coughing fit, which again set his abdomen ablaze. When he could breathe again, he continued in a much softer tone. "Gross. It's articles…about her—Jess's…" he lifted one hand in lieu of saying the word. "I'm still…trying to figure it out. He…doesn't need…ta know."

Rufus nodded his understanding and settled back into his chair. "Yeah, okay man, I'll do it."

"Thanks."

The two sat in a brief silence before Wyatt held out the handheld paging device, which also served as a bed-adjuster and television remote. "Wanna watch some tv?" he asked around a yawn.

Rufus grinned. "Sure." He flipped through the first few channels then turned back to face Wyatt. "I don't even know what you like—"

Turns out it didn't matter for Wyatt was fast asleep.

* * *

That afternoon, as Rufus pulled up in front of Wyatt's apartment building, he couldn't help but be surprised at the nicely-maintained building in front of him. Up until that point, he hadn't given much thought to where his friends lived, but had suspected Lucy was in a nicer neighborhood since her mother had owned the house for almost thirty years. He hadn't really expected Wyatt to be living in a dump either, but the soldier just didn't strike him as being a gated community kind of guy.

Rufus parked the car on the street then climbed the stairs to Wyatt's third floor home. Though Wyatt hadn't explicitly stated _when_ Rufus should take down the pictures, the pilot had the feeling it should be done sooner rather than later. Now that Wyatt was awake and continuing to improve, he was sure to be released within the next few days, at which point he'd need the pictures gone if he wanted his grandfather to stay with him.

Rufus found the apartment without issues and undid the double deadbolt with the keys he'd snagged from Wyatt's MI locker. He had bagged the rest of the locker as well and was planning on dropping it off at the hospital, since Wyatt probably would want his phone at some point.

As he entered Wyatt's apartment, Rufus was again surprised by what he saw. In hindsight, he supposed he'd been expecting a barely functional apartment for someone who was hardly there, but instead, the space was homey, despite being sparsely decorated: there was artwork on the walls, a blanket thrown over the couch, and a coffee cup on a coaster on a side table.

The kitchen and living area took up the right half of the apartment so Rufus followed the hallway to the left, finding first the master suite, the bathroom, then finally the guest bedroom in the northwest corner. The second he walked in, he knew why Wyatt wouldn't want Jesse to see the wall. It was plastered in newspaper clippings, some highlighted, some with large swooping circles around pertinent parts, some untouched all together. Strings of different colors connected a spread of pushpins, tying it all together.

"Oh Wyatt," Rufus breathed as he took in the sight in front of him.

He was just pulling out his phone to take a picture of the order, should Wyatt want to put the wall back together later, when he heard a persistent knock on Wyatt's front door.

"Wyatt?" a woman—not Lucy—called. "Are you there?"

Rufus immediately froze, hoping the woman would just go away. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side as he heard a key rattle in the lock. "I'm coming in, okay? Please don't shoot."

Panicked, Rufus spun around the room while examining his options. There was a window that had the ability to open but, given that they were on the third floor with no balconies, it wasn't the best option. He could hide in the closet until the unwanted visitor was gone...or he could just go out there and tell the truth: after all, he'd been permission by Wyatt to be here.

Rufus took a deep breath then stepped back into the main room, instantly regretting his decision as he came face-to-face with the business end of a Taser.


	7. Chapter 7

Rufus froze, his eyes locked onto the front end of the Taser.

"Who are you?" the voice demanded.

Slowly, Rufus dragged his gaze away from the Taser and up to the woman who was holding it. She had to have been in her early twenties, of average height, lean but strong, and had a mop of wild red hair that stuck out in every direction.

"I'm Rufus Carlin," the pilot stuttered out, his mind churning with all the ways this situation could go horribly wrong. "I'm a friend of Wyatt's—a coworker, actually!"

Confusion flashed over the woman's face but she kept the Taser trained steadily on Rufus. "Let's see some ID."

"It's in my back pocket," Rufus said as he began to slowly reach for his wallet. "Please just…don't Taze me."

He pulled his wallet from his pocket with two fingers then offered it to the woman, who picked it up with her left hand and flipped it open in one smooth motion. "I have my badge too if you want to see it," Rufus added as the woman held the wallet to eye level then began to scrutinize the license under the light.

After a tense moment, she nodded then held out the hand holding the wallet. Rufus pulled his badge from his front pocket, where he'd stuck it after packing up Wyatt's locker, and handed it over.

The woman examined the badge just as carefully, then, to Rufus' surprise, she lowered the Taser. "Wyatt's mentioned a new gig at Mason Industries," she said slowly. "No coworkers though." She held out Rufus' identification and the pilot snatched them back before she could change her mind.

"Did you assume he didn't have any?" Rufus seethed as he pressed his palm over his heart, trying to physically slow its pace.

The women shrugged. "Not any that he was friendly with." She then stuck the Taser in her waistband, slouched against the wall, and began to twist her hair into a large bun. "So where's Wyatt been? I haven't seen him around lately."

Caught off-guard by the shift in conversation, Rufus could only stare at the woman, who was completely relaxed, as if she hadn't just held someone at Taser-point and grilled them about their intentions. It took longer than he'd like to admit before he could put together a proper response and convince his mouth to relay it. "Do you always treat Wyatt's friends to such a warm welcome?"

The woman flinched. "Like I said, I haven't seen him around lately," she said, a defensive edge creeping into her tone. "Then I hear rustling sounds coming from his apartment and I got worried someone had broken in." She paused for a split second before adding, "You could have responded when I knocked, you know."

"And said what exactly? I'm a friend of Wyatt's? You know how well that worked out."

"Wyatt's not big on having people over, okay? So you'll forgive me if I was a little surprised to find someone who is obviously not him, that he's never mentioned before, in his apartment!"

Rufus prided himself on being fairly level-headed—he had to be given the nature of his job—but after the craziness and uncertainty of the last two weeks, he just couldn't let this woman's underlying accusations go. "Why do you even have a key to his apartment anyway if he's so secretive? How do I know _you're_ not here to rob him?" He winced at the pettiness of his words but was too wrapped up in the argument to find a way back.

The woman's eyes were flashing angrily but she again surprised Rufus when she didn't act on it. Instead, she took a literal step backwards, let out her breath through clenched teeth, then said, in a much softer tone, "Not that you deserve an explanation but he kinda looks after the complex when he's around. So I look after his apartment when he's gone." After another long exhale, she held out her hand. "I'm Kassandra Lowing, by the way. I live next door."

Rufus could feel his indignation fading but he wasn't quite ready to accept the proverbial olive branch yet. "You already know who I am," he replied in a clipped tone without making a motion to complete the handshake.

Kassandra waited for another moment before slowly retracting her hand. "I'm sorry I threatened to Tase you," she said in a voice so calm and level, it was almost emotionless. "It's just that Wyatt's too good of a guy to have someone come in here and steal all his stuff."

"I wasn't stealing!" Rufus retorted.

"I know that now!" snapped Kassandra. "But I didn't when I knocked on the door! Wyatt might have been hurt and unable to answer. You know he comes back from your jobs all sorts of beat up right? I was worried."

Rufus practically had whiplash from the speed at which this woman's demeanor changed but, at this point, he was pretty sure she was more concerned neighbor than homicidal loon. He took a long breath himself and focused on leveling his breathing, slowing his heartbeat, all that yoga stuff Jiya loved. "I know," he replied, also in a more even tone. "It's some job he has."

Kassandra watched him for a split second then slouched out of her defensive posture…again. "Are we done fighting now?" she asked as she learned back against the wall of the hallway and crossed her arms loosely over her chest.

"If you're done accusing me of being a thief."

"I am," she replied, adding a crisp nod for emphasis. "And, for the second time, I'm sorry. I really was just looking out for the place."

The words caught in Rufus' throat but he managed to ground out, "I'm glad someone is."

Kassandra smiled, though the expression seemed to physically pain her, and the room drifted into an awkward silence. "So...where's Wyatt been?" she asked after a beat. "It really has been awhile since I've seen him."

"He's in the hospital," Rufus replied, having previously decided to leave the specific details out, should their conversation end up here. "I'm here to grab some of his stuff."

Kassandra gasped, her hands flying up to her cover her mouth. "That's awful. When I didn't hear anything from his apartment the last few days, I assumed he'd be travelling, but he usually gives me notice, you know?" Her stream of words snapped to a halt as she paused to take a breath. "Is he okay?" she continued a split second later. "I mean, I assume you would have said something if he wasn't but you can never—"

"He regained consciousness yesterday afternoon," Rufus interjected before she could get all worked up again. "Still a few more days of R&R before they'll release him though."

She nodded rapidly but her expression was still marred with concern. "That's good. Really good." She was quiet for another brief second before adding, "He's probably not up for visitors or anything but could you tell him I'm glad he's okay, that I'm looking after his place so he doesn't have to worry, and that could straighten up a little if he wanted so he comes back to a clean apartment?"

"You know, I actually think—"

"Great!" Kassandra practically melted with relief. "Thanks Rufus!" She pushed herself off the wall and made a beeline for the door. "Maybe I'll see you around, when he's healthy again. You seem like really great guy—" the rest of her words were lost as Wyatt's front door banged closed.

Rufus was left staring at the space she'd vacated, wondering what Wyatt had done to inspire such loyalty from his neighbors. Sure, _he_ knew Wyatt was a great guy but it'd taken him quite a while to get past the tough-guy, hothead exterior. It was a little surprising Wyatt's neighbors knew him that well too—and that they were willing to go to such lengths to keep his apartment safe. Kassandra hadn't known anything about Rufus or his background, yet she had charged in here ready to protect Wyatt's home...Or maybe that's just how other neighbors were and Rufus' own were just subpar. The people on his block rarely gave anyone else the time of day and he didn't even know the names of the couple who had moved into the house to his right—

Contemplation later. Right now, he had a job to do.

Rufus nodded to himself then walked back into Wyatt's guest bedroom where he finished taking pictures of the wall before carefully pulling down the pages and laying them in a pile on the desk itself, next to a spread of crime reports and similar incidents for the days surrounding Jessica's disappearance.

Wyatt hadn't exactly said what to do with the papers, so, after the wall was completely cleared, Rufus went searching for a place to put them. The most obvious answer was the desk under the window where three drawers stood in place of the right legs. The first two drawers were so filled with office supplies that Rufus could barely open them. Banking on that being true for the last drawer as well, Rufus gave the handle a good yank and was thrown off-balance when it yielded easily. He heard a crashing sound as the drawer reached full extension and, wincing, he peered into the drawer to find it half-full of boxes, papers, and assorted cases, all covered in a thick layer of dust. Some of the dust on the case closest to him had been dislodged by the impact with the front of the drawer, allowing a hint of something metallic to shine through.

The papers temporarily forgotten, Rufus picked up the case and swept his thumb over the top to brush off the rest of the dust. His breath caught in his throat when he uncovered a medal hanging from a red and white striped ribbon. It was comprised of the United States Coat of Arms surrounded by a dark blue ring which read "For Distinguished Service" and some Roman numerals.

Rufus stared at the medal in awe as a myriad of conflicting thoughts shot through his brain. To him, it represented a great honor, but, based on its place in the bottom of a dusty drawer, he suspected the same was not true for Wyatt...which led him to morbidly wonder what had happened for the soldier to receive it. Still, Rufus had never seen a medal of this significance up close so he stared at it for another moment before reverently putting the case back in the drawer, knowing he was never going to mention to Wyatt that he'd found it.

As he did so, his hand bumped against another case and knocked it into the light. This artifact Rufus recognized instantly: it was the original Bowie knife Wyatt had been given at the Alamo. Now Rufus' curiosity was piqued about the contents of the rest of the drawer but he resisted digging any further: he'd intruded enough on Wyatt's personal life for the day. Before he could change his mind, he gently piled all the papers into the drawer and pushed it closed.

On the way out of the apartment, Rufus was reminded of Kassandra's message to Wyatt and stopped to do a cursory clean of the apartment—it _had_ been the better part of two weeks since someone had been in here after all. After wiping down the main surfaces, doing the dishes, disposing of the fuzzy things in the refrigerator, then taking out the trash, Rufus walked out into the hallway and promptly made a face at the security camera, having a sneaking suspicion that Kassandra was somehow watching.

* * *

That evening, Lucy was on her way back to Wyatt's room when she heard Bobbi, the PT's, voice through the doorway. She nodded to Dave, the 6'7" guard on duty, then sat on the bench, stuffing the bag she'd brought with under the seat.

"They should be almost done," Dave informed her before returning to scanning the hallway for possible threats.

Lucy thanked him then pulled out her phone and opened her favorite mindless game to pass the time. Sure enough, not three minutes later, she heard Bobbi exclaim, "And ten! It's looking better, Wyatt."

"Doesn't feel that way," the soldier groaned, followed by a muffled thunk.

Concerned, Lucy stood up, able to see Bobbi helping a sweating Wyatt back into bed through the window in the glass. When he was once again lying down, Wyatt dropped his head against the pillow and screwed his eyes closed.

Lucy was about to sit back down again when she heard him pant, "This is humiliating." She shifted so she was out of his direct line of sight and anxiously awaited Bobbi's response.

"If it makes you feel better, you're in better shape than most of my patients," the PT replied as she stripped off her gloves.

Wyatt cracked open one eye and shot her a glowering look. "Most of your patients are in the ICU."

Bobbi shrugged unapologetically. "My point still stands. Considering you were unconscious for eleven days, your progress is fantastic." She made some notes in her file, handed Wyatt a new page of exercises, then stood to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said as she walked toward the door.

Lucy scrambled to sit back down and look engaged in her phone, achieving her goal a split second before the door opened and Bobbi said, "Oh hi, Lucy. Have you been waiting long?"

The historian looked up, her face the picture of innocence. "Not at all. How's your day going?"

"Same old, same old. How is everything—" she was interrupted by her pager beeping, "—with you?" Bobbi trailed off as she tilted the device upward and read the screen. Then she looked up at Lucy and shrugged, this time looking sincerely apologetic. "That's my cue."

"I understand," Lucy replied, motioning for her to go.

Bobbi nodded thankfully then set off down the hallway.

Lucy leaned back against the wall, intending to give Wyatt a moment to recover before she entered. Her plan collapsed however when the soldier called out, "You can come in, you know."

"Are you sure?" she asked, poking her head around the doorjamb so she could read his expression. "Cos I can come back..."

Wyatt lifted his head from the pillow and smiled warmly at her. "I'm tired, sweaty, and I probably smell. If that doesn't scare you off, then sure."

"No, it doesn't." Grinning, Lucy retrieved the bag then entered the hospital room.

"How'd things go with your mother?" Wyatt asked as soon as she had sat down.

Lucy winced. "Straight to the hard questions, huh? I don't even get a warm-up 'Hey Lucy, how are you?'"

Wyatt's eyes widened and he was on his way to apologizing when Lucy continued, "Relax, I was kidding. It went well, I think. She knows I still can't talk about my job but I think we've kinda reached an understanding. At least for now."

Wyatt reached out and laid his hand on hers. "That's awesome Lucy. I'm so happy to hear that."

Lucy nodded and brushed her flyaways out of her face. "So how are _you_ doing?" she asked casually, as if she hadn't heard Wyatt's and Bobbi's final conversation.

She must have overplayed it though since Wyatt's eyes immediately narrowed. "You heard, didn't you?" the soldier replied, more a statement than a question.

"Just the last bit." For emphasis of just how little she'd heard, Lucy held up her thumb and index finger about an inch apart. "For what it's worth, I think you're making great progress too."

"Fifty feet has never seemed so long," Wyatt groused, referring to the minimum distance he needed to walk unassisted in order to be released.

Lucy pulled out her hand from beneath Wyatt's and laid it on top of his, brushing her thumb along the backside of his hand reassuringly. "You'll get there. I know it."

"I brought you something," she said a beat later as she handed over the bag.

"You didn't have to do that," Wyatt replied, punching the button on his bed until he was doing an approximation of sitting. He then opened the bag and pulled out a _Weapon of Choice_ book and DVD. "Thanks Lucy!" he exclaimed, an excited smile lighting up his face.

"I wasn't sure if you'd read it yet. Or seen it."

Wyatt shook his head as he flipped both over and scanned their back covers. "Haven't gotten around to it." He looked up at her. "Have you?"

"No but I read the Wikipedia page. It's definitely a work of fiction."

Wyatt looked disappointed for about half a second before a wide grin split his face again. "Wanna watch it?"

"You sure up for it?"

Wyatt shrugged. "If I fall asleep, I'll just watch it again later."

Lucy nodded, then took the DVD from Wyatt, stood and dropped it into the overhead player. She then turned her chair to face the television and leaned her head against the side of Wyatt's bed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw the soldier frown, then shift over to the right, wincing briefly as he did so. A split second later, a second pillow materialized in the space between them and he patted it once, motioning for her to use it.

"You sure that doesn't hurt you?" she said, tilting her head at his slightly more cramped position.

He shook his head. "Totally fine."

"Okay then." She scooted her chair closer, slid her right arm under the pillow and rested her head against it.

Wyatt then located the multipurpose handheld device and punched play.

As the title card of four shadows running from a billowing mushroom cloud rolled onscreen, all the emotions Lucy had been harboring for the last ten days swept back into her brain with all the force of a tidal wave. "I'm glad you're okay," she said softly, her voice catching only slightly in her throat.

She wasn't even sure Wyatt had heard her but then, a second later, he replied, "I'm sorry I scared you. I know this can't have been easy for anyone, but especially for you."

"I should have said something," Lucy stated, her fists tightening in the pillowcase. "I knew when you opened the connecting door that something was wrong—"

Suddenly the movie paused and Wyatt's finger was under her chin, tilting her head so they were looking eye to eye. "There was nothing you could have said or done. And if you had, I probably would have ignored you."

Lucy couldn't help but chuckle at the truth in that statement. "It still feels wrong though. Like one of us should have been able to prevent it."

Wyatt just shrugged. "It might have been one your things that was meant to be. Either way, I'm fine now. And we just know to be more careful in the future." Then he paused. "Past?" he asked, his brow wrinkling.

"It's a _Back to the Future_ scenario. Either one works."

Wyatt nodded a few times in agreement with her answer. "Anything else you need to get off your chest...ma'am?" he added as a smile played over his lips.

Lucy smacked him (lightly) on the arm; he was still in the hospital after all. "Just play the movie before I smother you with a pillow."

"Copy that."

Wyatt quickly punched play and he and Lucy settled in for the fictional retelling of their fourth adventure.

* * *

 **A/N: The show made it seem like Wyatt received a high-ranking medal for the Syria mission, which is partially why he's so disgusted by it. I flipped a coin between a 'Distinguished Service Medal' and a 'Silver Star'. If anyone knows what type of medal it actually is, please let me know!**

 **Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry about the wait. Unreliable WiFi made posting and editing this chapter impossible.**

* * *

The next day, Wyatt rolled back into his room after his latest round of scans to find it completely empty.

"Don't worry," Ivy, the day nurse, said as she helped Wyatt out of the wheelchair and back into bed. "They'll be back soon."

"'m not…worried," Wyatt wheezed once he was leaning heavily against the headrest. The small action of getting back in bed had tired him out more than his old Delta workouts and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this constantly exhausted. Fortunately, he'd graduated from a hospital gown to a plain white undershirt and grey flannel pajama bottoms with little lightsabers on them, so he hadn't accidentally flashed anyone on today's adventures. "They…deserve…to get out," he sputtered before grabbing a cup of water and gulping it down.

While his heartbeat slowed down to a normal level, Ivy kicked the brakes off the wheelchair and moved it to the side of the room. She then informed him Jesse would be back around four, asked if he needed anything and, when he declined, left the room.

As the door closed behind her, Wyatt found himself alone for the first time since he'd been awake. He'd encouraged Rufus, Lucy and Jesse to start getting back to their normal routines, now that he was no longer on death's door, and had actually been thrilled to find them gone.

However, that also left him at a loss for what to do. He knew from the way his body was slowing down that he wasn't going to be up for much longer so, after a moment's contemplation, he decided to just check his phone. He rooted through the duffel bag sitting on the rolling table, pushing past the extra shirts and pants Grandpa Sherwin had purchased for him—thankfully all the shirts were plain white but the other two pairs of pants were either blue with little Captain America shields or red with the Star Fleet insignia; Grandpa Sherwin insisted they'd come in a three-pack but Wyatt was less than convinced—as well as the rest of his MI locker until his fingers closed around his device.

To his surprise, the phone turned on immediately and Wyatt made a mental note to thank Rufus for charging it for him. Not surprisingly though, he didn't have many messages. There were a few spam emails detailing various weekend sales; a reminder for his monthly physical at Mason Industries, which made him snort because he had no hope of passing it; and a handful of texts from his army buddies, making sure he was still planning on coming down to San Diego at the end of the month for birthday shenanigans.

As much as he wanted to go, Wyatt wasn't sure he'd be up for the usual celebrations. He swallowed down the lump in his throat then left the group chat without replying. Fighting back a yawn, he tapped the Internet icon and proceeded to browse through the front pages of the major news sites, trying to catch up on what he'd missed.

The next thing he knew, his foot twitched, snapping him back to consciousness.

"You okay?" a familiar voice asked.

Wyatt opened his eyes to find his grandfather sitting beside his bed, halfway through a book. "Fine," he mumbled, gently shaking his head to expedite its clearing. "What time izit?"

"Almost five."

Wyatt reached past the tray of food that had appeared on the rolling table—thus relocating his duffel bag to a nearby chair—grabbed the glass of water and took a long drink. "Do anything exciting today?" he asked when his throat no longer resembled sandpaper.

"David had his science presentation today. He was more than ready for it. I got suckered into taking him for ice cream if he gets an A."

Wyatt couldn't help but grin upon seeing how that story about Rufus' brother took the lines of worry (however briefly) off his grandfather's face. The moment was short-lived though as it brought to the surface a thought that had been bothering Wyatt for the last two days. Up until now, he hadn't had the energy or opportunity to broach it with his grandfather, but, since he had both right now, he took a deep breath and charged forward.

"You know you can stay at my place—if you're tired of the Carlin's, that is. If not, that's okay too; I just thought I'd offer." The words left his mouth in a rush and, before Jesse could reply, Wyatt hurriedly continued, "I know you haven't been there…ever…but you're going to be there in a few days when I get released, and Rufus says it's habitable though you're going to think it's a mess and—"

"Slow down Speed-Racer," Jesse interrupted, holding up a hand traffic-cop style.

It took everything the soldier had to swallow back the rest of his monologue.

"I don't mind staying with the Carlins. I'm pulling my weight with the few chores they're allowing me to do so I don't think they'll mind me for another few days. I can wait to see your house until you're released. I don't want to make you any more uncomfortable than necessary."

"It's not _uncomfortable_ ," Wyatt retorted, though his expression belied his words. "It's just…" he shifted awkwardly in his bed, "…old memories."

"I understand, Wyatt. My response still holds though: I'll wait until you're released."

"Are you sure?"

Jesse fixed his grandson with a knowing look.

"You're sure," Wyatt amended and Jesse responded with a few wide-sweeping nods.

"You getting hungry?" Jesse asked after a beat, pointing to the tray full of food next to Wyatt's bed.

The soldier looked at the applesauce, cauliflower, vanilla yogurt, and white bread sandwich filled with what looked like turkey and provolone cheese, and shook his head. "It's all the same color," he groused, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

"That's why I brought this." Jesse picked something up off the floor then straightened up, allowing Wyatt to see it was a white paper bag.

As if on cue, Wyatt's nose picked up the amazing smell and his mouth began to water. "I love you grandpa," he enthused as he reached out for the bag.

Before his fingers made contact though, Jesse pulled it back out of his reach. "You have to eat half of the stuff you're supposed to first."

"A quarter," Wyatt countered.

"Exactly half, no more, no less."

Wyatt's scowl deepened, which only served to make Jesse grin wider. He held his ground though and, after another moment during which Wyatt realized he didn't have a metaphorical leg to stand on, the soldier caved.

"Fine," he grumbled as he opened a carton of applesauce and poured it down his throat. He did the same for half the yogurt and a quarter of the sandwich. "It's awful," Wyatt stated before Jesse could object. "And the cauliflower's mushy."

"I suppose that's close enough," his grandfather conceded. He held the bag closer to Wyatt, only to again pull it back at the last second. "Take it slow and wait five minutes between each quarter to make sure it stays down. I'm pretty sure they'll kick me out for good if you throw it all up."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Wyatt agreed, reaching a third time for the bag. As soon as his fingers made contact with the paper, he grabbed hold and yanked it back at lightning speed; Jesse couldn't have pulled the bag away again if he wanted to.

While his grandfather chuckled in the background, Wyatt dropped the bag onto the bed and unrolled the top, pausing only briefly to take in another deep inhale. He then pulled out the white paper clamshell and popped it open to find a cheeseburger. It was just bun, meat, cheese and a smattering of ketchup but it was one of the most beautiful things Wyatt had seen in a long time.

He grabbed one of the pre-cut quarters, held it up to eye-level so he could truly appreciate its goodness, then took a bite. "You're the best, Grandpa Sherwin," he stated around a mouthful of cheeseburger.

"I know," Jesse replied as he pulled out a burger for himself and dug in.

Though Wyatt didn't want to, he did follow his grandfather's advice and waited between quarters to ensure they were going to stay down. Jesse, the wonderful person that he was, did the same with his own food as well. To pass the time in between quarters, the two played cards, which was a long-standing tradition in the Sherwin family.

"Who's watching the ranch while you're gone?" Wyatt asked, two games of King's Corners, four games of Watergate, and three cheeseburger quarters later.

"Chris. He's been running it more and more the last few years anyway. This will be good practice to see if he can manage the whole thing start to end."

Wyatt looked up from his hand. "Does that mean you have go back soon?"

"I have the utmost faith in Chris and he knows how to get a hold of me if something goes wrong, so…" Jesse shrugged, then laid down three consecutive cards, "…it depends on you. I can be here for as long as you want me—and don't say you want me here for forever like you used to; I know you're going to get sick of having me around."

"I sound like an awful person when you say it like that," Wyatt grumbled but didn't object the point.

Jesse grinned at Wyatt's expression then laid his hand on his grandson's arm. "I know you, Wyatt. You're used to living your own life. And pretty soon you'll be ready to go back to it." He refrained from adding 'you won't need me anymore' for two reasons: one, it would only worsen the current situation and two, it wasn't true. Wyatt had never truly needed him, which was why any time they spent together was so special; it was mutually wanted by both sides.

There was another beat of silence before Jesse spoke up again. "We don't have to decide right now but how 'bout I plan on staying until you can start doing things by yourself again?"

Wyatt nodded slowly. "I'd appreciate that grandpa." Then, he grinned evilly and with one smooth gesture, laid down the rest of his cards. "I'm out!"

Ignoring Jesse's groans, Wyatt reached over and put another tally under his name on the scoresheet before picking up the last of his burger. "That makes it five games to two."

"Deal them up again," Jesse instructed as he mimed rolling up his sleeves. "I have a feeling my luck is about to change."

* * *

Slowly but steadily, Wyatt continued to improve. He'd had never been particularly good at convalescing (the chicken pox incident when he was eight was no something Jesse was interested in repeating) but, to his grandfather's great surprise, Wyatt did a pretty decent job of not lashing out at others in his frustration at his own healing rate.

The only exception had come up three days after Wyatt had first awakened, when Jesse had walked in to find Wyatt suddenly sullen, withdrawn, and unnecessarily gruff, especially to the physical therapists who wouldn't let him continue to work past what they thought was appropriate. It had taken Jesse two hours of cards (a patented Grandma Becky technique) to find out that Lucy and Rufus had been called away, with Dave Baumgardner filling Wyatt's position.

"I'm sure it's just until you pass your physical again," Jesse said, as he drew a five, bringing his hand's total to twenty-one.

Wyatt shrugged halfheartedly then swept the cards into a pile. "It might not be, if he does a better job than me."

Jesse looked up from his winnings and stared at Wyatt, who, in his distracted state, was shuffling the deck with half the cards facing up and the other half facing down. "You're serious?" the rancher asked, almost in disbelief.

"Kinda." Wyatt looked down at the cards and made a face when he realized what he'd done. He spread the deck over the table then grandfather and grandson set about putting the cards in the same alignment.

"Dave a great guy, don't get me wrong, but I've seen how Rufus and Lucy act around you," Jesse said as he flipped over a King of Spades. "That kind of bond doesn't come easy."

"Our job is different than most. You have to trust people quickly if…" Wyatt trailed off as he considered what he could say, "…if you want to get back. Things could happen—"

"Hey, don't go counting Bam-Bam out just yet. He did learn from the best," Jesse interjected.

Wyatt nodded but the motion was more absent than not. "I wish I could tell you the whole thing, Grandpa. I really do."

Now that the cards were all facing down, Jesse swept them into a pile and began to shuffle before Wyatt could mess them up again. "I know son. But I've long since come to terms with the secrecy of your job." He dealt out another round of twenty-one and waited for Wyatt to signal if he needed another card or not. After the soldier waved him off, Jesse continued, "I wouldn't worry about any of it, if I were you. They're already out doing whatever it is they're doing; there's nothing you can do now but focus on getting better and getting back to your team as quickly as possible."

"One problem at a time," stated Wyatt and Jesse nodded.

"Exactly."

* * *

Two days later, Wyatt had walked the allotted fifty feet without assistance and passed every other metric required for him to be cleared. After signing a pile of documents more than a foot high, he was officially set to be released the next morning.

As Jesse rolled him down the hallway for the final time—the wheelchair had been non-negotiable, much to Wyatt's dismay—all of Wyatt's doctors and nurses lined up outside his door to wish him well. The soldier, who was in a much better mood now that he was getting released, forced Jesse to slow down so he could genuinely thank each and every one of them for saving his life and helping him recover.

"Just promise us we won't see you back so soon," Candice Bright quipped as she patted Wyatt's shoulder.

"I will do my best," he promised, reaching back and laying his hand on hers. Then he twisted from his waist so he could look her in the eye and said, his tone gravely serious, "I owe you."

Dr. Bright waved her hand dismissively, in such a way that it knocked repeatedly against his. "You owe me nothing," she stated. Without giving him a chance to reply, she turned and walked back into the hospital.

"Doesn't one of us need to go get a car?" Wyatt asked as Jesse rolled him to the edge of the pull-through drive in the patient loading zone.

"Nope."

Wyatt frowned but, trusting his grandfather, sat back in the seat. Two minutes later, his truck turned the corner with none other than Rufus and Lucy in the front seat.

"Welcome back!" Wyatt exclaimed, hurriedly trying to push himself to his feet as his truck pulled to a stop in front of him. He somewhat shakily crossed the distance to the vehicle and pulled Lucy, who was closest, into a hug. "You guys okay?"

"We're both fine," Lucy replied, noticing with great concern that Wyatt was leaning pretty heavily on her to stay upright. She shifted her hands down to his upper arms then pulled back slightly so she could examine her friend, wondering if he was in fact ready to be leaving. Though he was still far too pale and not yet back to his usual size, given how the clothes they'd brought from his place hung loosely on his frame, the protest died the second she recognized that determined almost frantic glint in his eye, the one that was absolutely ready to be done with the hospital.

"When was the last time you had this thing in the shop?" Rufus asked as he rounded the front of the truck and tossed Jesse the keys. "It drives like a tank."

"That's by design," Wyatt said, turning to face Rufus and embracing him as well. Then he hobbled over to the side of the truck and gripped the passenger's side door handle like it was his only lifeline.

Just then, Dr. Travis shouted, "Don't forget your two-day check-up," from the entryway.

"I won't be allowed to," Wyatt called back, then smiled toothily at his family over his shoulder with his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

Jesse muttered something about ungrateful children under his breath but, from his posture and tone, the Time Team knew he didn't mean it seriously.

Wyatt took a deep breath then a shaky step back so he could open the car door. "Nothing to it," he muttered as he began to slowly climb into the cab.

Jesse, Lucy and Rufus waited until he was firmly seated before closing the passenger door and getting in themselves. After verbally checking that everyone was in fact buckled in, which made Wyatt groan loudly, Jesse threw the car in gear and they headed home.

* * *

 **Just the epilogue left, but it was growing too lengthy to tack on to the end of this chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: There wasn't a big response to the last chapter (which is fine, I appreciate any and all reviews I do get) but I wanted to make sure it wasn't because the site glitched. So, if the last thing you read was Lucy and Wyatt watching _Weapon of Choice_ , a new chapter was posted on Thursday, which covers Wyatt's last few days in the hospital.**

 **Now, on to the epilogue!**

* * *

"Home sweet home," Rufus quipped twenty minutes later as the elevator doors opened onto Wyatt's floor. The pilot stepped out first, then flattened his hand against the sensor to keep the doors from closing while Wyatt slowly shuffled out of the car.

A door opened somewhere behind him but Rufus didn't pay it any attention until a familiar woman's voice called out, "You look like shit."

Rufus then looked over his shoulder to see none other than Kassandra Lowing leaning out of a nearby apartment, her gaze locked onto Wyatt.

The soldier straightened up as much as possible, evenly met her accusatory stare, then replied, in a tone that was completely serious and not at all offended, "Thank you."

While the two continued their impromptu staredown, Rufus' gaze flitted awkwardly between them, freezing on Kassandra when he noticed the engagement ring on her left hand. His stomach dropped to somewhere around his knees as possibilities flashed through his head, especially those hinging on Kassandra and this timeline's Wyatt being engaged because of something that happened one of the last two jumps. It would explain a lot though, especially her almost possessiveness of Wyatt's apartment...

Eyes wide and jaw slack, Rufus turned to look at Wyatt and was surprised to find the soldier grinning widely.

"C'mere Kass," Wyatt said, holding out one arm. The redhead hurried out of her apartment and flew into Wyatt's embrace, almost, but not quite, knocking him over as she did so.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she mumbled, her face buried into his neck. Wyatt just nodded and rubbed the back of her head reassuringly.

Rufus' head was again spinning with the speed at which things tended to change around Kassandra Lowing and, from Lucy's and Jesse's expression, he could tell they were both similarly confused.

A split second later, Kassandra pulled out of the hug. "I'm sorry I didn't visit you in the hospital," she began as she rubbed her hand up and down Wyatt's arm, but the soldier shook his head, cutting off the rest of apology: "Don't be. I understand."

Before Kassandra could reply, Lucy cleared her throat…loudly.

Grinning sheepishly, Wyatt shuffled around to face Rufus, Lucy, and Jesse, then gestured with his left hand. "Guys, this is Kassandra Lowing. She's Bam-Bam's brother's fiancé. I promised Dylan I'd look after her while I'm stationed here."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," she said, holding out her hand, and Jesse and Lucy shook in turn after introducing themselves.

Kassandra then turned to Rufus and hesitated. Wyatt must have thought Rufus had frozen, like he'd used to do in Jiya's presence, for he cleared his throat and said, "That's Rufus."

"I know," Kassandra replied. "We've met before."

She was about to pull back her hand when Rufus reached out and took it.

"Ya know you could have led with the fact that you're Baumgardner's sister-in-law," the pilot pointed out as they shook hands.

"A strange man in Wyatt's apartment? I didn't have to tell you anything."

Wyatt's face scrunched in confusion. "Rufus, I didn't warn you about Kassandra?"

" _Warn_?!" the redhead repeated, fixing Wyatt with an unamused look.

The soldier shrugged, not looking the least bit apologetic, then turned to Rufus. "Sorry man," he winced. "I meant to tell you to stop by her apartment first."

At that point, Rufus could do nothing but shrug; their first meeting was in the past and even with the Lifeboat, nothing could be done to change it.

"Well, I should let you all get settled," Kassandra said as she took a large step back. "It was nice to meet you all. You know where to find me if you need anything."

"It was very nice to meet you too," Jesse called, waving as Kassandra unlocked her door.

She had barely taken a step forward before she exclaimed "Oh!" and spun back around to face Wyatt. "Since you're not answering your phone, I'm supposed to tell you Dave has the weekend off and he'd like to come visit if you're up for company."

"I'll give him a call soon," Wyatt replied. "Thanks Kass."

She smiled back, almost self-consciously, then disappeared into her apartment.

"She seems nice."

"Don't start Grandpa," Wyatt pleaded as he began walking toward his apartment. "I'm really not in the mood."

"I'm just commenting that that was a very nice thing you've done," Jesse continued as he picked up his pace to match Wyatt's, who, despite his efforts, wasn't really walking all that fast.

Wyatt ignored him and, when they reached his apartment, focused intently on unlocking the double deadbolts of his door. He grinned when he succeeded but immediately froze as the door swung open to reveal a large Mylar "Happy Birthday" balloon bobbing in the entryway. "Please don't tell me there's a whole party in there."

Rufus saw Wyatt's borderline-panicked expression and was quick to shake his head. "One, we didn't know of anyone outside of our job that we could invite and two, we figured you'd be pretty beat once you finally got here. But we couldn't let the fact that you never told us when your birthday is go unheeded."

"It's two weeks early but they insisted," Jesse cut in, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

Wyatt looked over his shoulder at Lucy and Rufus, who just smiled and shrugged as if the whole thing had been planned without their notice.

"There aren't any other decorations but Rufus bought a cake, made by Jiya's mother," Lucy added.

"Jiya swears she's the best baker in the world," Rufus interjected defensively. "I thought we'd give it a try."

Wyatt stepped into his apartment, dodged the balloon, then leaned against the wall and began kicking off his loosely-tied shoes by stepping down on the heel and sliding out of them in the manner that Jesse hated. "You should invite her over to try it with us," he said, motioning for everyone else to enter.

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Jesse asked as he stepped into the apartment, trying to be discrete about checking it out. Rufus couldn't help but notice the way he nodded proudly before refocusing on the current conversation.

"If I get tired, I'll just go to bed," Wyatt was saying as he made his way over to the couch and lowered himself onto it with a contented sigh.

"Somewhat less important than Wyatt's health, but still of great importance to the person who is expected to love it," Rufus paused for effect, then finished, "what if the cake's bad?"

Chuckling under his breath, Wyatt turned his head to look the pilot right in the eye. "Then you'll need practice. If you stick with Jiya you'll be eating a lot of it."

Rufus gulped loudly, which made the other three grin. "Maybe I'll try a tiny slice before she gets here...just so I can be properly prepared."

"As the only parent in the room, I feel obligated to tell you there will be no cake until after we've eaten a proper lunch," Jesse spoke up, waving down the exaggerated groans from Wyatt and his friends. "Are we going to need to go food shopping?"

"Lucy went," Rufus said, having noticed there was fresh food yesterday when he'd come over to straighten up one final time.

To his surprise, the historian shook her head. "No, I didn't. I've never been here before."

"Kassandra," Wyatt surmised and the rest of the room nodded.

"Maybe you should invite her over for cake too...if you're up to it." Jesse didn't wait for Wyatt to respond before walking in the direction of the kitchen. "How's mac 'n' cheese sound?"

The three time travellers responded enthusiastically and Lucy even offered to to help prepare it.

"Thank you but no. I can manage on my own as long as Wyatt tells me where the pots are."

"Right of the sink."

"Great. Now why don't you lay down some and I'll call you when lunch is ready," Jesse suggested as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Wyatt wanted to object but knew from how he was struggling to stay vertical that his body needed a rest. He nodded and carefully shifted positions until he was lying on the couch. "You guys can watch TV or whatever. It won't keep me up," he mumbled as his eyes slipped closed.

Rufus sat down in the reclining chair, clicked on the television, then turned the volume way down. "What do you want to...what are you doing Lucy?" he asked when he saw the historian quietly rolling up the large rug in Wyatt's entryway.

"I don't want him to trip," she whispered as she heaved the roll upright and stuck it in the corner behind the door. "Until he is more steady on his feet, anything he could stumble over or slip on should go."

Rufus looked over to make sure Wyatt was well and truly asleep before standing and helping Lucy push smaller pieces of furniture to the side, basically making long unobstructed walkways between rooms. They stayed away from the master bedroom though, in an attempt to give Wyatt some semblance of privacy.

Not long afterwards, the Time Team was all sitting around the dining room table, fighting over the last bit of the macaroni in the pot, ignoring Jesse who was insisting he could just make more. In the end, they split it three ways and, while Wyatt chewed his last bite, he couldn't help feeling incredibly lucky, both for the current company and the additions later that evening.

He'd be surrounded by wonderful people from all aspects of his life—his blood family, his army family (and those about to marry into it), his work family—and, despite the awful circumstances that had transpired to bring them all into the same room, he couldn't be more grateful for this time with all of them.

* * *

 **And that's the end of this adventure. Thanks so much for sticking around; your support has meant the world to me!**

 **Until the next story,**

 **usa123**


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